Not Entirely Human Error
by BabyBadger
Summary: Chase has gotten it together since being fired, and House is complicating his life, whether Chase likes it or not. House/Chase, if House gets his way. Now with 80% less angst and 50% more snark. Updates courtesy of 30 Days and 30 Nights of House/Chase.
1. Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Chase gets fired and maybe it _will_ turn out to be a good thing, in more ways than one.

A/N: Quotes from the show are indicated in italics (as are thoughts, but you'll recognize the quotes). ALSO: This story comes with a money-back guarantee - it WILL be completed.

DISCLAIMER: You _know_ these guys aren't mine. If they were, I wouldn't be sharing them, now would I? I have a consulting job that charges by the hour, so not only am I not profiting, I'm apparently losing money writing fanfics. I'm simply trying to enhance and/or fix what the paid show writers came up with, so where's my cut of the action, David?

**Not Entirely Human Error**

"He WHAT?" Cuddy yelped.

House had fired him. Not just yelled or insulted him, not just sent him home or to someone else's home, not just assigned him meaningless busywork, but actually _fired_ him. Chase hadn't seen that coming, at least not lately.

Chase stopped by Dr. Cuddy's office on his way out, to let her know why he was leaving the hospital and wouldn't be doing his clinic hours. He was really hoping she wouldn't be there and he could just leave a note or something…neutral. He wasn't ready to discuss what was happening – not until he knew what that was and how he felt about it.

She was at her desk, though, so he had to deliver the news directly. It was oddly gratifying to see that Cuddy was shocked that House had fired him. He realized now that he would have been crushed if it turned out that House had been planning this ahead of time. Cuddy tried to get Chase to sit down and discuss what was going on, but he politely declined. He wasn't sure what he could say at that point; something this big would require some private thought. He figured if he remained standing and inched his way toward the door, he could avoid a discussion.

"Did something happen with the patient? Did the two of you get into a fight? God, please tell me he didn't throw a punch at you again!"

Chase frowned. "No, nothing like that. The patient is doing fine and we're – _they're_ – getting close to a diagnosis, I think. And House isn't likely to get anywhere near my jaw again."

Cuddy refused to believe what was going on. "Did he give you any reason for firing you?"

"Said it was time for a change."

"Chase, you know this is ridiculous, don't you? House is upset with Dr. Foreman leaving – who knows what he's actually thinking right now."

"That could be, but I'm not going to lurk around the hospital until he gathers his thoughts."

"Chase, don't any of take this personally. You're a fine doctor and House is just being a jerk, as usual. We'll get this sorted out and you back on the job as soon as possible.

"To be honest (_Oops, _he thought_, Stacy told me not to use that phrase_), I'm not sure what to do about this. If House doesn't want me here… Well, I need to sort things out." Chase was making noticeable progress toward the door now.

"Please don't make any decisions about the future without talking to me first. There are a lot of factors to consider, and not all of them involve House. In fact, why don't you just take the next few days off and relax? Dr. Wilson and I will handle House."

A ghost of a smile crossed Chase's face. "Good luck with that. House doesn't exactly 'handle' very well, does he?"

Now it was Cuddy's turn to smile. "No, but we've had years of practice, so at least we know a few buttons to push. Now that I think about it, consider the next few days off as paid sick leave…we'll take it from House's account."

That was a good time to escape, while they were both smiling. Of course, House would never miss the sick days – he never took them anyway – but it was a tiny private victory, and with House, you took 'em where you could get 'em.

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Chase knew he couldn't stand to go back to his apartment right now. It wasn't exactly homey under the best of circumstances, and right now, after being fired - the thought made his skin crawl. He pulled his car into the parking lot for the walking trails in the city park. At this time of night it was deserted, which suited him just fine.

_With my luck, I'll get bloody mugged,_ he thought wryly. _Wouldn't that just make today perfect?_

There was a grassy area near the picnic tables, and he came here regularly. It was a good place to think on a quiet day. Grabbing a blanket from the car trunk, he walked out into the field and spread it on the ground. He laid back, took a couple of deep breaths, and began what he suspected would be a long process of sorting out his thoughts about what had just happened with House.

He just wasn't sure how he felt about the situation, and that surprised him almost as much as the firing. A year, or even six months, ago he would have been completely gobsmacked about losing his job, but right now – not so much. It was weird, actually. He needed to think this through, to see if he could make any sense out of what was going on in his head and how his life might be changing.

In the short term, he would be fine. Chase knew something about American job contracts - he had discreetly looked into the issue during the Vogler debacle. He was currently paid on the Diagnostics Fellowship account, but he also had a yearly contract with the hospital because of his work in the ICU. PPTH couldn't just throw him out onto the street without legal cause. Unless he did something truly heinous (and they hadn't fired him after Kayla's death - he really couldn't imagine himself involved in anything worse than that), he 'officially' had a job until the fall, for what that was worth. Chase also knew that the contract could be nullified if he 'agreed' to be terminated, presumably with decent severance. He wasn't rich, but he wasn't going to starve on the street without his job anytime soon.

Chase suspected that, at the very least, Cuddy would offer him a position in the PPTH ICU. The department head there had told him multiple times that once he couldn't take House's abuse any longer, he could come work for them full-time. It wouldn't even be embarrassing, under the circumstances. House didn't exactly have congenial relations with other departments (_that_ understated thought was worth a smile), so he knew that everyone at the hospital would simply assume the firing was just another example of House being a complete arsehole. No one could really figure out how Chase had managed to stay with House as long as he had – it was considered to be a new World's Record for Tolerating House, not likely to be surpassed (according to popular opinion).

Was that something he wanted? To stay around PPTH long-term, even if he wasn't working for House? Better to put that issue on the back burner for a while, he decided. It would keep until he heard from Cuddy. He shifted position to lie on his side, head propped on his right arm, looking idly into the dark woods beyond the field.

As for his job prospects elsewhere? In reality, he had never considered this to be a problem, even in the dark Vogler days. Intensivists were in high demand everywhere. He knew the statistics – in the United States, only one-third of ICU patients were under the care of critical care specialists, due to the lack of doctors in this field. With his credentials, Chase could go pretty much anywhere he wanted and get a better-paying job than he currently had, with regular hours, even, and limited likelihood for an abusive boss. He suspected it wouldn't take long to find a position, either.

Best of all, he smiled grimly, he wouldn't have to worry about any supposed phone calls from his father. House had held that over his head multiple times, even mentioned it to Cameron and Foreman, and at first, Chase had felt humiliated and angry about it. But after a couple of years, having worked out some of what made House tick, he now didn't believe for a moment that House would do _anything_ as a professional courtesy to a colleague, especially a famous one. House couldn't even bring himself to make a simple freakin' _speech_ when his own life was virtually on the line. No, either there had been no phone call, or if there had been, his father must have asked House _not_ to hire Chase. House would certainly be capable of hiring Chase to spite Rowan, but if that was all it was, House would have sent him packing years ago – point made. If Chase had turned out to be incompetent, House could have sent him to the clinic full-time and abused him back to Australia in no time. Anyway, if Cameron and Foreman chose to believe House's little fabrication, the bloody hell with them.

Ouch. That gave him a stomach twinge. He didn't want to think about Cameron right now and he sure as hell didn't want to consider what she apparently thought of him.

_God, you think I sabotaged Foreman? I don't even want him here._

_I know. _

_Then why would I do…_

_I think you sabotaged Foreman just to…sabotage Foreman._

_So, everyone's a suspect because everyone wants to help House, except for me. I'm a suspect because I'm a petty, vindictive jerk?_

Great. He really needed _that_ running through his head. Time to get moving and find a distraction. Preferably containing alcohol.

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House sat in his office, idly throwing his favorite ball into the air and catching it. He had just fired Chase, and found it wasn't nearly as difficult as he had feared. Chase hadn't argued or made a scene – just took it in and walked away. That was one of several signs House had had just today indicating that his youngest duckling was indeed ready to leave the nest. The Chase of two years ago had gone rogue at the merest hint of job insecurity. Even more recently, he would never have yelled at House – gone passive-aggressive, probably, but he wouldn't have openly shown his anger. And offering House one-on-one advice? Totally new.

Maybe that sock in the jaw had shaken something loose in Chase's head, in a _good_ way, House thought with a wince. That little altercation was one more thing he might have to someday, sorta, maybe, make amends for.

In a weird way, he felt almost elated that Chase was well and truly fired. It had been a spur-of-the-moment solution to a problem he had been contemplating for a while. He hadn't lied to Chase during their (mostly one-sided) conversation:

"_You're fired."_

"_What, because I yelled at you?"_

"_Because you've been here the longest; you've learned all you can or you haven't learned anything at all. Either way, it's time for a change."_

He was sure that once Chase thought about it, he would recognize the back-handed compliment he had received. Both of them knew that Chase had learned a lot in his three years at PPTH. Chase also knew…

House had to stop and grin here, because only Foreman would be egotistical enough to repeat one of House's more sincere insults without considering that it might be true. Foreman had told both Cameron and Chase that House had told him he wasn't ready to move on, and didn't they agree that the insinuation was outrageous? House was confident that Chase had inwardly (and damn, maybe even outwardly, he hoped) smirked at that information. If Chase was even half as smart as House believed, he would put all this together and realize that House respected his abilities as a diagnostician.

He had expected the process of actually firing Chase to be messy, but now, since his former Fellow had taken the news relatively well, the worst part would be the continuous stream of people following him around and trying to convince him to rehire Chase.

Wasn't going to happen, though. And now their employer/employee relationship was over, leaving open a number of intriguing possibilities for their future interactions. House had a couple of scenarios about where all this might be heading, and those ideas brought a smug smile to his face, along with a rare mood of, well, it almost felt like giddiness. There could only be one possible response…

Air guitar!!!

Oh, it was _definitely_ time for a change.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: You _know_ these guys aren't mine, nor are the profits.

**Part 2**

Chase tossed his bag on the chair and flopped down on his sofa. He had planned to grab a beer from the fridge, but right now he just didn't have the energy to get back up. It had been a spectacularly shitty day, to put it mildly.

Six months ago, Chase had thought he was finally getting wise to House's repertoire of dirty tricks, but then the wanker had really cranked the volume to eleven on his weird shit. A punch in the face, fake cancer, firing him - House had managed to blind-side Chase again and again in the past few months, and not in a good way. Maybe that was at the heart of Chase's ambivalence about losing his job.

They had once had a pretty good relationship. When Chase started working for House, it had been just the two of them in Diagnostics. Sure, House had been constantly snarky and downright insulting at times, but his verbal abuse didn't have that mean edge that developed later. Chase had been acutely aware that he was the object of House's intense scrutiny. Most of it had been purely professional, and rightfully so – he needed to prove he could be trusted with patients, and even more, that he would carry out House's treatment agendas.

No one at the hospital had expected Chase to last long at his job. House had quite the reputation for chewing up and spitting out minions. Some of the turnover was due to House's extremely high standards, but the biggest reason was simply that no one could stand to work with him. Aside from being abrasive in the extreme, the man just wasn't interested to being a traditional mentor. House figured his Fellows should just watch him in action and_ absorb_. God help the hapless colleague who asked for a full explanation of any of House's esoteric and sometimes downright _mad_ diagnoses and treatments. No, you either managed to keep up with House on your own, or you cleared out.

Chase had found it relatively easy to adapt to the realities of his new position. His father had never been particularly nurturing, or stingy with his criticisms, so House's lack of traditional social skills hadn't fazed him. Chase enjoyed the intellectual challenges of trying to keep up with House's brilliance, and appreciated the opportunities he was given to come up with innovative ideas and actually voice them. That type of freedom wasn't often available in the medical profession.

What had puzzled Chase most during his first few months on the job was the impression that, in addition to their professional relationship, House was also appraising him personally, in ways he couldn't quite identify. House never asked him about his past at all, but he would throw out weird comments and watch his Fellow's reactions. Comments about Chase's appearance and sex life were common – comments that could virtually define 'sexual harassment in the workplace', if Chase had taken them seriously. There had been times that Chase almost thought that House was trying to proposition him, in a roundabout and heavily veiled manner. Chase wasn't about to ask, though. And then Cameron and Foreman had arrived, and the dynamic subtly changed. The comments became more conventionally insulting, but they continued, to the extent that, after a month or so on the job, Foreman had felt compelled to bring it up in conversation.

**Three years ago**

Foreman and Chase were running an apparently unnecessary full-body scan. Neither was much for idle chatter, so they sat in bored silence for a while, until Foreman spoke.

"Hey, man, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Depends on the question, I suppose," Chase replied.

Foreman could see that Chase was tensing up at the prospect, but decided to jump in anyway. "Are you gay?"

Chase swung his head around from looking at the computer screen to staring at Foreman. "_Excuse_ me?"

Foreman leaned back and gave Chase an appraising look. "It's a straight-forward question. I mean, you don't have to answer it if it makes you uncomfortable. I don't really care one way or the other; just curious."

Chase's attention returned to the screen. "Why would you think I'm gay?"

"Well, the nasty comments that House keeps making to you certainly contribute. He calls you 'pretty' a lot, and that's not something you say to a straight guy unless you want to start a fight."

Chase smiled. "True enough. House says a lot of things about everyone, though. If I listened to him seriously, I'd be afraid _you'd_ steal my lunch money."

"Touché."

Silence settled again, until Foreman said, "So, are you?"

After a moment, Chase smiled and said off-handedly, "Don't know. Never tried it."

"I'll take that as a 'no' then."

"Whatever," Chase shrugged.

"So why do you let House get away with al those insults, then? Masochistic tendencies?"

"I don't much care," Chase said. "He insults people just to blow off steam. I chalk it up to his wanker tendencies and move on. Can't be a masochist if he doesn't make it hurt."

**Back to Now**

Chase smiled ruefully. Of course, Foreman had spent the rest of the scan time lecturing Chase about sticking up for himself, not taking House's shit, and so on. When it came to earbashing, Foreman could be worse than Cameron. At least she would shut up if you just ignored her for a bit. Once Foreman got a self-righteous roll, he was unstoppable. After a couple of months, their relationship had become strained enough that Foreman just gave up on non-diagnostic conversations with Chase unless Cameron was there too.

Just then, the phone rang. Chase was expecting Cameron to call to see if he was all right. That was a conversation he didn't feel like having right now, so he let the machine pick up.

To Chase's surprise, it was House's voice. "_Chase? If you know what's on the PET scan, call me back."_

Well, that was strange, he thought. No way House was calling to apologize or take back his pink slip. Cameron and Foreman had both been correct back at the hospital – what happened didn't make sense, and yet House _always_ made sense, in his own way. Of course, it wasn't easy for the mere mortals around him to figure out what that sense might be.

Maybe the reason for the phone call was exactly what House said. If so, apparently neither Foreman or Cameron had deigned to give House the test results he wanted. Now that was an amusing concept – he just hoped that he had been the inspiration for that course of action. Another tiny victory.

If Chase had thought the PET scan was clean, he would have ignored the call entirely. However, the patient probably had a blood clot in her arm that would need immediate treatment, so he decided to return the call. Undoubtedly Cameron and Foreman were taking care of the problem, but there wasn't much point in helping to further increase tension on the team. Things were enough of a mess as it was.

As expected, the conversation was short and odd.

"Returning your call, House."

"_Dr. Chase. How are ya?"_ The jovial tone seemed out-of-place, but then, when was House ever appropriate?

"Better than the patient. She has a hot spot on her humerus, probably a blood clot."

"_Thank you. You are indispensable." _A short pause. _"Uh, you're still fired. Sorry."_

Chase hung up and plopped back on the couch. The puzzle kept getting more complicated. Being called "indispensable" was bizarre enough, but "Sorry"? From _House_? Back to eleven on the weird-shit meter. Someone must have been listening at the other end of the line – Wilson, maybe?

Not a priority worry right now.

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Wilson flopped into his desk chair and buried his head in his hands. He and Cuddy had just confronted House about firing Chase, with typical effectiveness – none. Damn, he hoped he hadn't set this whole mess in motion.

_You are not good with change._

_That used to be true, but I've changed._

Wilson shook his head at the notion that House _had_ actually changed in any way – he certainly hadn't noticed any relevant signs before their earlier conversation, and it just wasn't possible over the past few hours. No, this was House being that cold-hearted bastard that Foreman saw. This had to be one of House's little head games, with Chase as collateral damage.

Wilson hadn't anticipated Chase being caught in the crossfire like this. He knew that Chase had an indifferent (at best) relationship with Foreman, so Foreman leaving didn't exactly rock _his_ world. House hadn't complained to Wilson about Chase's job performance in quite a while. Lately, in fact, it was as close to the opposite as House ever got. Chase had solved some tough ones, and House had actually commented on it (not that Chase had heard any compliments, Wilson was sure). House had seemed…amused by this turn of events.

Wilson had actually grown to like and appreciate Chase over the past couple of years. It had taken a bit of work, though. He had been livid when Chase ratted out House to Vogler. That had almost gotten both House and Wilson fired, and it just seemed like a weaselly thing to do in any case. The anger began to mellow after Chase and Wilson finally had a conversation a couple of months after the fact.

**Two Years Ago**

After a lousy day at work, Wilson decided to stop off at the nearest bar and grab a brew. He wasn't in the mood for company, and when he saw Chase, of all people, sitting at the bar alone, staring into a beer like the secrets of the universe were hidden there, his first thought was to ignore him and hide in a booth. Then it occurred to him that his crappy mood might make this the perfect time to confront Chase and vent some of his annoyance. After all, he didn't dare go home and take it out on Julie – things were tense enough between them as it was.

Wilson grabbed the stool next to Chase and ordered a beer. Chase either didn't notice him or wasn't going to look up. Wilson sat there silently, nursing his beer and waiting for Chase to come out of his apparent fugue state.

Finally Chase raised his head, and registered the older doctor's presence with a slight start. They had been studiously avoiding each other at work since Vogler left. Chase had to know that Wilson told House to fire him – House would never have let something like that go unmentioned. Well, Wilson thought, with any luck, Chase would also know that the time to apologize had come. In fact, it might be the last chance he would have at an audience.

Chase apparently did know this was up to him. "Hey, didn't see you there."

"Apparently not." Wilson had no intention of making this easy. Let Chase wade in and then get an earful.

"Look, um… I know this is late in coming, and it's not much consolation, but I truly never intended for you or anyone else to get mixed up in what was going on between House and me last spring," Chase said softly.

Wilson definitely wasn't in the mood for hushed conversation. "You're right. It's _not_ much consolation, seeing as I almost lost my _job_ because of what you did." Chase looked pained at Wilson's statement. "I guess you didn't think about anything but saving your own _ass_ when you ratted House out to Vogler. You must have something going for you if House didn't fire your sorry ass at the time, but I'll be damned if I know what that something would be."

Chase grimaced and stared at his beer again for half a minute, then looked directly at Wilson for the first time that evening. "I don't blame you for being angry with me. Tattling on House was a bloody lousy thing to do, and even if it hadn't turned out badly, I would have been ashamed of having done it. But I hope you'll believe me; I never thought that House or anyone else would actually be hurt by it. I thought House was good enough to get around it all, that Cuddy could cover his back, and I couldn't have imagined that you would get caught in the middle. Everything I told Vogler he would have found out from someone else eventually. I just thought that if I got there first, I could buy some good will and hold on to my job."

"Oh, and it never occurred to you that Vogler would _use_ the information against House? Did you consider the fact that if you kept _your_ job, either Foreman or Cameron would lose theirs?" Wilson wasn't bothering to hide his distaste now.

"I never thought that the information I provided was all that valuable. House has made enemies all around the hospital. They've experienced the verbal abuse, seen the arguments he has with colleagues. They know he blows off his clinic hours and doesn't interact with even his own patients much. They know how underhanded he can be to get what he wants when he thinks he's right. They could have told Vogler the same things I did; I just had direct access when they happened."

"What I can't figure out is why House even allowed you to stay after Vogler's power play. You signed up with the wrong side on that one. I don't know how he could work with you after that."

Chase smiled ruefully. "One of life's great mysteries, that. At the time, when I didn't get sacked, I just assumed that House was enjoying his justifiable opportunity to abuse someone. He's certainly been stoked to get his pound of flesh out of me; made me feel like a wally ten times over."

Wilson frowned. Chase's accent always got thicker after a couple of beers. "Wally?"

Chase snorted. "A complete screw-up. Which I was, in Vogler's case, so I shouldn't be whinging. And on the plus side, I've learned a lot of medical trivia while I'm being punished."

A gloomy silence fell between them. When the barman came back by, Chase ordered another round of beers. "My shout, Dr. Wilson. I owe you that much penance, at the very least."

They both fell silent again as the beers arrived. Then Chase muttered, "If House wasn't such a wanker…" He paused and shook his head slightly. "If he had just made that bloody speech, things might have settled down and no one would have lost their jobs. What I did…it would just have been between House and me then."

Wilson finally asked the question that had troubled him all along. "Why did you do it?"

With a grimace, Chase said, "Bloody hell if I know anymore. It seemed rational at the time, I suppose." After a pause, he continued. "That's not entirely true. I was angry at House; angry at myself, too. After my wrong leg screw-up, he really ripped me a new arsehole. House couldn't have made me feel worse than I already did _without_ his comments. The patient was just fine, but I realize that my mistake could've had horrible repercussions. It was just that…"

Chase seemed at a loss for words for a moment. Then, quietly, "He really just seems to enjoy yanking my chain; always has. I've seen the others make mistakes almost that bad, and House didn't jump on them with both feet flying. Then he started to hint that I might lose my job, and there _he_ is, playing fast and loose with the transplant committee. I just panicked, started snooping around; the rest you pretty much know."

Wilson considered this for a moment. Chase wasn't wrong about House favoring him for abuse, even before Vogler. The kid didn't even have to do anything wrong; sometimes his mere presence seemed to bring out something rather mean in House. "Okay, so if House treats you like crap, why are you so eager to keep your job?"

Chase frowned and stared at his beer again silently. Then he raised the glass and drained it in a single gulp, setting the glass back down heavily on the napkin. It looked to the older doctor as if Chase wanted to say something, but couldn't find either the right words or the resolve to say them. So Wilson sipped his beer and waited for Chase to gather his thoughts.

Finally, after several minutes, Chase softly said, "Do you know what it's like to have someone constantly criticizing you, judging your every move? My father didn't think I was suited to be an intensivist. He didn't think I was good enough to work for House. So, every time he objects, I've had to show him that he's wrong, whatever that takes. I don't suppose it's one of my more endearing qualities, but there it is. When my father was here a few months ago… House knew we weren't on the best of terms, but here he invites the great Dr. Rowan Chase to consult on our case and shoot down all my ideas in public. Maybe House thought it would make me a better doctor, but all it did was open old wounds and make me behave like a bloody arsehole. Maybe that's all House wanted anyway. Coupla FIGJAMs, those two."

Wilson had to laugh out loud at that comment. He'd heard that nickname for golfer Phil Mickelson and knew exactly what it meant. It certainly fit House perfectly, and he suspected that Rowan Chase wasn't far off the mark either. He wondered what it would be like to grow up with all that pressure full-time.

Chase also smiled briefly, then became serious. "All that mess between my father and me, House and then Cameron taking his side… It _hurt_, and then House was threatening my job. My father would have bloody _loved_ hearing I got fired – that would have put me in my place. I couldn't face that possibility. At that point I would have done just about _anything_ to keep my fellowship."

Wilson saw the pieces of the puzzle falling into place now. Father-son rivalry was hardly a fresh concept, and given the history between these two… Wilson suddenly realized that he knew very little _about_ that history, or about Chase in general. He did know that Rowan was the kind of father who didn't have the decency to tell his estranged son that he was dying. He was apparently content with letting his son get blind-sided by the news, and letting House and Wilson deal with Chase's shock and whatever else he might be feeling when Rowan died.

**Back to Now**

And they now knew how that had turned out. Chase hid his knowledge of his father's death, and his emotional state, from his co-workers for months; apparently only House had enough of an inside track on Chase to realize why he might have mismanaged Kayla's case. Wilson had heard from House about Rowan's death, but he hadn't felt comfortable broaching the topic with Chase. His own foreknowledge of Rowan's terminal cancer had never set easily with him, and he had just been too cowardly to want Chase to realize his part in the problem.

Well, whether this current mess was his doing or not, it was time to go get some sleep. He had an early colon resection to perform tomorrow.

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TBC

A/N: Feedback brightens my mailbox and makes me update faster.


	3. Chapter 3

This was not supposed to be a sad story, but the angst fairy showed up and bopped me on the head for this chapter. Anyway, what's coming is much lighter. Hooray!

DISCLAIMER: You _know_ these guys aren't mine, nor are the profits.

**Part 3 - Interlude**

Chase woke with a start, momentarily disoriented. Okay, he was in his own living room. Apparently he had fallen asleep on the couch, lulled by the drone of the Home Shopping Network. How he had managed to fall asleep after yesterday's events, he wasn't sure, although the team had been running a full steam for a couple of days – probably that explained it. The sun was streaming in the window and Chase realized he had actually slept much later than usual. _Not like I have anywhere to go_. House wasn't much of a morning person, so the Diagnostics Department usually started up at a reasonable hour when there wasn't a patient, but Chase normally got up early to work out when he could. He always felt a bit sludgy when he didn't get enough exercise.

_Well, plenty of time for that now,_ he thought ruefully. He needed to get up and run, and then come up with something mindless to do today - anything to avoid thinking about his next step. He just wasn't ready for that yet. No point in jumping into anything without considering all the angles.

He went for a long run, which was a real luxury. He ordinarily didn't have the time to go farther than he needed for a basic aerobic work-out. By the time he had done five extra miles, he was feeling a bit done-in. He had to admit to himself that he had not put in enough mileage recently – at this rate he was going to start putting on some pounds…

_No_, he _wasn't_ going to go there. Just thinking about weight issues made his head hurt. He had heard so damn much about the topic growing up – he wasn't about to obsess himself into an eating disorder like his mother had. He had never had a weight problem, he didn't have one now, and his eating and exercise habits were healthy enough to inhibit major problems in the future. It was just the thought that made him almost queasy.

When he was young, his mother had been so beautiful – he had thought she must be the most beautiful person in the whole world. Then the drinking had started (although _he_ hadn't realized it at the time), and his mother began to gain weight. It really wasn't all that much – she just didn't look quite so perfect in a bathing suit anymore. That was about the time that his parents started arguing on a regular basis – horrible, loud arguments, laced with accusations and insults and the occasional smashing crockery.

Chase remembered burying his head under his pillow at night, trying to block out the sounds. It hadn't worked. Up until then, he hadn't realized that his parents could get so _angry_.

"_Look at you, woman – you're a disgusting mess! How much did you put away today?"_

"_Well, maybe if you came home once in a while and paid some attention to me, I wouldn't have to find other ways to amuse myself!"_

"_Don't think I don't know about some of the ways you're finding to amuse yourself!"_

"_Look who's talking!"_

"_Well, if you weren't turning into such a fat hag, maybe I __**would**__ be home more often!"_

That had been the start of his mother's issues with her weight. After his father left, those issues turned into a consuming fixation. Even as a teenager, he could see what was happening, and now, as a doctor, he could understand the situation clinically. As his mother drank more, she packed in more and more calories. Since drinking tends to stimulate the appetite, there were even more calories, which added up to extra pounds very quickly. When she got heavier, and therefore less attractive in her own eyes, she became increasingly depressed, which made the drinking and binging even worse, which made the weight…

Well, it was obvious even at the time that it was a vicious circle. He had pleaded with his mother to stop drinking, for many, many reasons. Chase had never considered her appearance to be the best reason, but he had tried to appeal to her vanity, to no avail. Mum complained incessantly about her weight, and yet she wouldn't do the one obvious thing to end the problem – _stop drinking_. Instead, she stopped eating, which was absolutely the worst possible thing she could have done for her health. There was no way her liver could have survived that kind of strain for very long, Ironically, toward the end, she had been putting away more than a bottle of gin a day, and with more than 2000 alcohol calories per day, she was gaining weight and wasting away at the same time.

Even now, he had to admit he was still angry at his mother for not having the _will_ to help herself. He knew that wasn't really fair – her alcoholism was a disease, not a choice. And yet, she _had_ turned it into a lifestyle; eventually, her entire personality had fallen away until there was nothing left but the alcohol. The vomiting, the passing out on the floor, the drunken temper tantrums, the physical abuse directed at her son (which she never seemed to remember the next day), the strangers she brought home from the bars (she didn't remember them either) – she had somehow found it all _acceptable_. She hadn't tried to do everything she could to save herself.

And even though _he_ didn't find the drinking acceptable, maybe, in the final analysis, he thought, _he_ hadn't done everything he could have to save her, either. Maybe, maybe, there was something else he could have tried; some additional argument, some tactic, some trick to get her into rehab. She had flatly refused to go, saying it would be humiliating (more humiliating than falling flat on her face in public? Chase had never understood that argument), and anyway, she didn't _really_ have a major problem. Rowan had made it clear that he didn't approve of any public admission of a problem. After all, he had said more than once, these things were supposed to be private _family_ matters. Of course, by the time things got totally out of hand, Rowan didn't consider himself family anymore, or at least, not enough to actually bother getting involved. No, it had all been up to his son Robert to figure it out and fix the problem. And his inadequate son Robert had failed at the most crucial job of his life.

Maybe that was what becoming a doctor was about for him; penance – making that last-ditch, desperate attempt to save anyone he could. Maybe that was one of the ways he was like House – trying to save people for his own reasons, rather than theirs. In any case, it made him rather unsympathetic to patients who couldn't seem to do what was needed to maintain their own health.

He slowed to a walk as he neared his apartment. Damn. Just what he needed; dredging up one more lousy memory to feel depressed about.

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By the time Chase finished a long hot shower, he was feeling a bit better. Time to clean up around here, he thought. The accumulated dust and scattered debris of several weeks of spending very little time at home were catching up with him. Besides, it was a completely mindless task, which was all he felt up for right now. He put on a Green Day CD and cranked up the volume to a level he wouldn't dare when his neighbors were home. _Don't wanna be an American idiot…_ Oh yeah, he wouldn't have to think while _that_ was blasting away.

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TBC

A/N: Next chapter – something will actually happen. We'll deal with Cameron, and House will be back, and Yay!

More reviews lead to more writing, faster!


	4. Chapter 4

SUMMARY: Chase is at loose ends, and maybe it _will_ turn out to be a good thing, in more ways than one.

Warning: Cameron!

DISCLAIMER: I've reproduced some dialogue from the show during the bar scene, with just a few embellishments of my own. If you're reading this, you watch the show. If you watch the show, you know which parts are not mine. So, Show Writers, some of the credit and ALL of the profits go to you.

**Part 4**

Chase collapsed onto his sofa and cringed as his back complained. His apartment had never been so clean and organized – if he didn't stop now, he'd be alphabetizing his medical books and lining up his (only slightly chewed) pencils in straight rows. Hell, he could hardly recognize the place already. He realized that he was incredibly hungry, and since the cupboard was pretty much bare, that meant a trip out, preferably for something nutritionally indefensible. He decided to head over to Gene's – he frequently ate there after shift with Cameron and Foreman, since it was convenient to the hospital. Nice and dark, big sandwiches, no need to talk to anyone – just right. The other Fellows were probably in for a long night at the hospital, as usual, so he wasn't likely to run into them.

Sounded like a plan.

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As she touched up her makeup in the locker room, Cameron was still appalled about what happened to Chase. How could House just up and fire him like that? She had told Foreman that House always made sense, but she wasn't too sure right now. Whatever else he might be, Chase was a good doctor, and if she was honest with herself, a better diagnostician than she was. Mind you, he never got any observable credit for it from House, but House _had_ to have noticed.

Of course, they'd all had their personal differences with Chase at work. She had been angry when she found out later he had ratted out House to Vogler to save his job (and therefore endanger hers). At least, she assumed that was his reason – he had ducked questions about it more than once. House had made Chase pay ten times over for that betrayal, though, and surely House couldn't still be angry about it. Although, maybe he could – she herself still made the occasional barbed comment based on Chase's actions at the time. She trusted him as a doctor, but not entirely with job issues.

Outside of work, though, Chase was never anything but sweet and considerate with her, which had surprised her in the beginning. She'd had him pegged as a complete opportunist, but he wasn't as eager to take advantage of her offer of unattached sex as she'd expected. He'd pretty much allowed her to take the lead in planning their sexual encounters, although his participation had been enthusiastic once they got started. She had to admit she missed his touch – he was a generous lover and more of a snuggler than one would expect with their 'arrangement'. Maybe that should have set off alarms from the beginning, but she truly hadn't expected him to become emotionally involved and screw things up. After all, he was the one who compared himself to 'microwave pizza'. She thought he understood his place, but apparently not. She was unhappy and a bit angry about having to end their arrangement, but she really didn't have any desire to lead Chase on. His declarations of 'like' indicated that his heart wasn't exactly broken yet, anyway. Admittedly, she was flattered by his Tuesday attention, but life seemed too complicated right now to deal with it at face value. It had really become a bit of a game, at this point.

Chase seemed to have taken her lack of emotional involvement in their relationship as an indication that she was still infatuated with House, maybe even trying to make the boss jealous. Well, she was over that now. Over the past couple of years, she realized that House was not that cliché 'gruff but loveable' guy she had envisioned. She had watched him interact with Stacy; he obviously cared for her – maybe even still loved her – but that didn't stop him from playing her when it suited his purposes. Cameron had also witnessed several of their loud arguments, and trading sarcastic insults with her partner didn't fit into her vision of 'true love'. Oh, House was damaged, all right, but he didn't want to be fixed, and she had slowly conceded that she couldn't make it happen entirely on her own. The man seemed perfectly content with his ability to be truly hurtful sometimes, and Chase's firing was just one more example. There might be a rational reason for it, but House couldn't be bothered to communicate that with anyone. If he made Chase feel like shit in the process… well, House really didn't care.

In any case, Cameron couldn't let things with Chase end this way, with no goodbye. It would be just like him to disappear into the wind. He had a knack for avoiding emotional scenes. Rather than telling her and Foreman about his father's death, he had left an obituary on the table in the conference room when he left for his suspension. They had been shocked to see the long-ago date on it. Foreman felt that if Chase wanted to avoid a discussion that badly, they should just let it pass without comment. She wondered if Foreman had even made the connection between the date of Rowan's passing and the mistake with Kayla. When Chase had returned to work, she had tried to offer her condolences, but Chase had instantly concocted urgent business in the ICU and fled. If _he_ didn't care, she saw no reason to concern herself about it either.

She wondered what Chase's plans would be. He didn't seem to have a lot of ties to either Australia or New Jersey, so he could end up anywhere. She wasn't sure why that disturbed her, although she would obviously miss him. It wasn't like she felt that much for him…

Well, maybe they could have one for the road. She decided to stop by Gene's before the apartment – Chase loved comfort food when he was depressed. She smiled at the thought. Chase was usually one of the healthiest eaters she knew, except for the occasional candy. Even then, he would brush his teeth as soon as possible; sometimes right at the conference room sink if he was pressed for time. House always gave him hell for that, and Chase kept his toothpaste and brush locked up and hidden in a drawer in case House decided to tamper with his supplies. House would probably do it, too, given a chance.

On a whim, she decided to add lipstick to the fresh outfit. House would notice and probably comment, but she right now didn't care. She was _so _over him.

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_Lipstick? _House thought with more than a trace of resentment as his Fellows left. _Who is she kidding? Why doesn't she just kick Chase in the balls on her way to the prom?_

House was quite aware of how Cameron had treated Chase lately. Despite what people who didn't know him might think, he was actually fully tuned in to hospital gossip. Maybe none of the staff or doctors would talk to him directly, but everyone cheerfully confided in Wilson. If House pretended to whine long enough, he could eventually annoy his friendinto repeating the latest rumors. It didn't take close observation to conclude that the stories about the circumstances of Cameron and Chase's break-up were true.

House smirked._ Chase is a bigger fool than I thought if he's still pursuing Cameron – doesn't he get tired of being jerked around? Of course, that's a quality I've put to use on a few occasions myself. Might come in handy in the future, too._

He had been amused when he first realized that Chase and Cameron were doing the nasty. He had set them up for the supply closet incident; _this _was something he had to see for himself. He had waited just long enough for the situation to become mildly compromising, but not long enough to risk a sight that would burn his eyes. A Kodak moment of Chase and Cameron having sex was just not something he wanted to experience, despite the blackmail potential.

His timing had been impeccable. Chase looked pretty damn good shirtless, and Cameron was still dressed. He really hadn't been interested in seeing the reverse. Cameron just didn't do it for him – as he had said before, he could've hit that, but he hadn't bothered. Women like Stacy or Cuddy – he could deal with them straight on, knowing that they could defend themselves. Someone like Cameron he could chew up and spit out with ease. For him, it was all about the challenge, and Cameron was no challenge at all.

In any case, if she had been infatuated with House for so long, he had to seriously question her taste in men. Dumping Chase the way she had was the final piece of that puzzle for House. She'd been treating Chase like shit for weeks now, apparently for the heinous sin of actually _caring_ about her. The only up-side to the situation that House could see was that Chase's continued interest in Cameron had kept him at PPTH longer than House expected.

He had to agree with Wilson that punching Chase hadn't been his slickest management move. He had been a bit shocked the next day when he saw how bruised Chase's jaw was. He knew that several of the staff witnesses had encouraged Chase to file charges against House for assault, and when that didn't happen, House had wondered if Chase just didn't have the balls for it. But then something odd happened; Chase began to exhibit much more self-confidence than before the incident. It became clear that Chase was finally unraveling House's behavior and occasionally even getting a step ahead of him. That alone intrigued House immensely – the idea that Chase might begin to understand him better than he understood Chase. That just wouldn't do; he needed more Chase-data to get ahead in this contest. Several weeks ago he had begun to develop his master plan for Chase's future, and it was now time to unleash it.

No, Cameron was definitely not right for Chase. She didn't seem to appreciate, or even know, what she had. Chase deserved better, and House definitely had someone in mind.

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Chase was enjoying his sandwich when he noticed Cameron sliding into the seat beside him. She was wearing more makeup than usual. _Maybe she has a date later_, he thought ruefully.

He would have preferred not to deal with her yet, but there she was. She was one reason he hadn't been looking to move on in the past few months. It might have surprised many of his colleagues, but she was the first person he had had regular sex with that he hadn't been at least infatuated with right from the beginning. There was no apparent shortage of willing partners around the hospital, but he still clung to a romantic streak (and also a bit of leftover Catholic guilt) that prevented him from enthusiastically pursuing meaningless sex. Despite the assumption by everyone around him that he was getting it regularly, he'd been having a long dry spell before Cameron propositioned him.

Her proposed FWB arrangement had been a novelty for him; an intriguing change of pace and certainly an attractive opportunity. It definitely hadn't sucked (_OK, maybe a new description would be more appropriate_). But then, of course, he had gone and screwed it up by wanting something more – so much for his trial run at meaningless. Hell, he'd never liked microwave pizza anyway.

Chase knew he wasn't inclined to be open with others; he saw it as a survival tactic. He'd been burned early and often by his parents, and didn't feel much inclined to set himself up for that kind of pain again. There were a few friends he felt very close to, who he felt really knew him, but it was a small and carefully chosen group. That was the way he deliberately played it; he kept his emotional walls pretty sturdy against casual invaders. Cameron certainly wasn't on the inside yet, or probably, ever. It seemed odd to him, to be so physically close to someone who knew and apparently cared little or nothing about him. She had been happy to talk about her own life, and when he had diverted her first few half-hearted attempts at drawing him out emotionally, she had simply dropped it. For all her tendencies to meddle and try to 'fix' other people's problems, he had blown off her prying surprisingly easily.

And her lack of persistence in learning more about him, and the fact that he _still_ thought of her efforts as 'prying', should have been big red flags all along.

If he was honest with himself, he had known for weeks that the 'It's Tuesday, I like you' thing was foolish, if not flat-out pathetic. The truth was, he had chosen his words carefully; he did _like_ Cameron, but he wasn't _in_ _love_ with her – at least, not yet. The potential had been there in his mind, but plainly not in hers. This was turning out to be an appropriate time to just forget it and move on. It was obvious that she was rather enjoying his Tuesday reminders, but not enough to offer him what he wanted. After this many overtures, she clearly didn't and probably never would see a probable or even possible future with him.

Cameron interrupted his thoughts. "Hey."

"Hey. You look great!" Chase managed to smile a bit. "I'm surprised you're not still at work."

Cameron shrugged. "We're at a dead end with the case, so House sent us home. Knowing House, he'll have a new list of ideas by morning."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. _A simple conversation between real friends shouldn't be this hard,_ thought Chase.

"You know House firing you has nothing to do with you," Cameron blurted.

"Why does it matter?"

"Foreman'll end up staying, House'll call you, probably yell at you for not showing up."

Chase glanced down at the bar. "It's, it's OK. He's right. It's time for a change… You were right too. The whole 'It's Tuesday, I like you', it's silly.

Chase paused. For a moment, Cameron had looked a bit crestfallen at his remark. But then she got that patented "I'm so concerned for you and your horrendous problem" look that annoyed the hell out of him.

"Oh, don't give me that look. Don't feel sorry for me. Getting this job was THE best thing that has ever happened to me. Everything about it. And losing it? And, well, losing it… I… think it's… gonna be good, too."

"I'll miss you."

OK, maybe he was misreading the signals, but for a moment it looked like Cameron wanted to say something more. She didn't, though, and this seemed too abrupt an end to their relationship. _What do I have to lose?_

"Have you got time for a drink or something?"

"I think I should go."

"Yeah." Chase shrugged and turned back to his dinner. OK, maybe that one last futile gesture did make him feel worse. _Great – my father couldn't be bothered to have a drink with me. Foreman couldn't be bothered, now Cameron can't either. Nice to be wanted ._

He shook his head in disgust with himself._ Well, boo hoo for me – maybe I should go eat worms, or something. _He took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. _So, that's the end of that; one less complication in my life._ Then he smiled, remembering back when they were still hiding their sexual relationship from everyone at PPTH. Probably Foreman had been right all along. House and Wilson _did _make a more likely couple than Chase and Cameron.

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TBC

If you like it and you know it, write reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

SUMMARY: Chase is getting a grip, and House will make life more interesting, whether Chase likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: And so on, and so on…

_Two Weeks Later_

_Well, this certainly feels familiar_, Chase thought as he entered the main door of PPTH and headed for the sign-in desk. The last time he was here, he had been a visitor, with an appointment to talk to Dr. Cuddy about 'employment opportunities', as she had put it. She had made him the proverbial offer he couldn't refuse; a staff appointment in the ICU and a request that he apply for a faculty position for next fall. The salary was sweet, the hours a lot more manageable than he was used to, and Cuddy had laughingly told him that he wouldn't have to deal with House if he didn't want to. They both knew how enforceable _that_ would be. With a hint of regret, Chase figured House wouldn't want to see him anyway.

He figured wrong.

As he signed in, his thoughts were interrupted by the intrusion of a loud, all-too-familiar voice blasting across the lobby behind him.

"Dr. Chase, welcome to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. We're SO glad you'll be joining us."

Chase caught himself before the tone of fake sincerity made him physically cringe. _Just what I need in my first 30 seconds back._ Without turning from the log book, he waited until his former boss was closer and replied, "Sod off, House."

Now House was looming behind him. Chase turned to find House's hand extended toward him in a grand, sweeping gesture.

In a voice intended for the entire lobby, House boomed, "Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your new appointment in Intensive Care. I'm sure you'll find it a rewarding experience."

Chase stared at the offered hand for a moment, and then turned his scowl to House's answering smirk. "What the hell are you playing at?"

House leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. "Dr. Chase, you don't want to look bad on your first day by refusing to shake the hand of a cripple in front of all these people, do you?"

Chase closed his eyes for a few seconds and mentally counted to five. When his eyes were done rolling, he opened them and plastered on his fakest clinic smile. As he grabbed House's hand and shook it enthusiastically, he loudly exclaimed, "Why. Thank you… _Mr_. House, is it? I'm sure Princeton-Plainsboro will live up to its fine reputation for excellent patient care and medical training. You nurses are really the backbone of what we do here."

House's smirk turned into a more genuine grin. "Oh, _anything_ we can do to help you _doctors_ save lives, just let us know. We're here to help you in _any_ way we can." Then, _sotto voce_, "Just don't tell Nurse Brenda I said that."

And with that, he sauntered off, leaving Chase a lot more confused that he had been five minutes ago.

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A/N: This is a short chapter, because I had writer's block at the time and I wanted to get something posted to keep things moving. I write faster in the presence of reviews (hint, hint).


	6. Chapter 6

SUMMARY: House is making Chase's life more interesting, whether Chase likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: You know it, I know it, doubt the lawyers will get confused about it either.

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It was the end of his first week back at PPTH, this time as an attending in the ICU, and Chase was tired but reasonably satisfied as he headed to his locker. It was good to get back to intensivism full time; it seemed almost… soothing compared to the emotional chaos in Diagnostics. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by colleagues who respected his medical abilities. _Don't miss being addressed as 'you moron' at all._

When he came around the corner of the locker room, he saw a small, brightly wrapped package in front of his locker. He slowed when he saw the tag addressed to 'Dr. Chase'; he would know House's handwriting anywhere. _This can't be good_, he grimaced. He hadn't talked to House all week, since the incident in the lobby. Wilson had sent him a short e-mail welcoming him back and inviting him to lunch next week. Chase wondered if that invitation included House; how rude would it be to tell Wilson to come alone? Being fired had been a truly miserable experience, and Chase just wasn't in the mood to forgive and forget. Fake greetings and presents notwithstanding, House wasn't getting off that easy.

Of course, this probably wasn't going to be the kind of present that said, '_Gee, I'm sorry I treated you like shit'_. In fact, thinking back on all the pranks House had pulled over the years did nothing to ease Chase's mind. He sat on the bench in front of his locker and gingerly picked up the box. It was rectangular, about 12 inches long, and several inches wide. The box was neatly wrapped (_Bet Wilson did that_) in festive red paper. Looking closer, he saw that the paper had little red hearts on it. _Yeah, nothing says 'House' like little girlie-doodles._ The box was fairly light and a tentative package shake suggested that there was a single object inside. _This had better not be a sex toy. _Chase unfolded the tag, which read, "Just in case you need someone special to run diagnoses with."

_Might as well get it over with_. He carefully unwrapped the box and his eyes went wide when he saw what was inside. _What the f… _

It was all he could do to stop himself from laughing._ Now I know I've been around House waaaay too long. If I think this is funny, I really AM going to go to hell._

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As Cuddy was walking back to her office, she saw Chase heading for the exit and allowed herself a little smile. Thank God things had worked out with the ICU job offer. PPTH couldn't afford to lose a talented intensivist on the whim of an erratic egomaniac like House. House might be a great doctor, but he sucked at employee relations.

At first she had gone back and forth with House to rehire Chase, to no avail.

"Look, just call him and tell him you didn't mean he was _really_ fired."

"I suppose you want me to tell Chase I'm sorry I hurt his itsy-bitsy widdle feelings, too."

"That would be nice, yes, but I'm not expecting miracles, House. Just give him his job back."

"No can do. Besides, if he accepted, I wouldn't respect him in the morning."

After three days of this, she had thrown up her hands, as had Wilson, and started arrangements for an ICU appointment for Chase. John Lawson, the department head, was thrilled at the opportunity to hire another doctor, and especially to hire Chase. John thought very highly of the young intensivist and had complained regularly about House arbitrarily pulling Chase off the floor despite the relative patient loads. Talk about a win-win hiring – John got to thumb his nose at House AND the ICU got an excellent attending.

And really, were there any department heads, besides Wilson, who wouldn't jump at the chance to stick it to House?

Face it, the man had a gift for pleasing people.

The odd thing was, though, that after she had made almost all the arrangements to offer Chase the new position, House had come to see her with a counter-proposal, barging in as usual and making himself comfortable with his leg stretched out on the table.

"I think you should offer Chase a part-time appointment as an attending in Diagnostics."

"I thought you didn't want him back."

"I never said that. I said I wasn't going to _hire_ him back. _You're_ going to."

She shook her head in confusion. "Why would _I_ hire him back for _you_, if you're the one who fired him to begin with?"

"Oh, come on, Cuddy. They pay you the big bucks because you're good at this kind of thing. Plus you look great in a tight skirt. Anyway, he wouldn't be coming back to work _for_ me; he'd be working _with_ me."

Cuddy had to laugh at that. "You don't work _with_ people, House. You try very hard to manipulate everyone around to work _for_ you rather than _with_ you. Chase knows that, so why on earth would he accept your suggested offer, under the circumstances?"

"'Cause he loves working with me so much."

"Odd, that's not what _he_ says."

That had gotten House's attention. An noticeable look of interest had crossed his face for a micro-second, to be replaced by a slightly predatory gleam in his eye.

"Ah, and what _does_ the ever-delightful Dr. Chase say, exactly?"

"Given the current situation, I don't know that that's any of your business, House."

House shifted into his ridiculous, fake-puppy-dog-eyes expression, along with the whiny, here-comes-the-emotional-blackmail voice, which didn't fool anyone who knew him. "Come on, pretty please. Share! You know how much I worry about the happiness of my former employees."

That was worth another laugh. "Yes I do, House, and that would be precisely my point. Let's just say that I've spoken with Chase. He's NOT waiting by the phone for your call begging him to come back, but he does hope that you're waiting by your phone for _his_ call groveling for his job, because you'd be waiting a long, long time."

"Hmph. That's rather rude of him, don't you think?"

"If Robert Chase knows the meaning of rude, he learned it from you, House."

"That's probably true. Another feather in my heavily-laden cap! So, you're going to offer him the Diagnostics appointment, right?"

"_No_, House. Right now, that would seem like an insult, and I'm not going to jeopardize his acceptance of the ICU job. I don't know what plan you've cooked up, but you are not going to do ANYTHING that will scare him away from PPTH, or you'll not only be doing extra clinic duty for eternity, but I'll put Brenda in charge of assigning you your patients. You'd be amazed at the number of explosive diarrhea cases that we get each week. Oh, and it's such a shame that you no longer have a team to cover for you and do your clinic hours, isn't it?"

"I do believe you're threatening me, Dr. Cuddy."

"Damn right I am, Dr. House. _After_ we get Chase back on staff in the ICU, and _if_ he indicates to me that he has any interest, we can discuss your suggestion."

House frowned but then shrugged his eyebrows. "OK, that will work, _for now_. You'll be hearing from me again, though."

"Oh, I never doubt that for a moment."

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Wilson toed off his shoes and all but collapsed onto the bed in his hotel suite. Looked like it was going to be room service again; he didn't have the energy to even go see what entertainments the TiVo had stored up for him. He'd dealt with too many patients with poor prognoses this week, and each one of those cases took a lot out of him. He took a certain pride in the fact that he had never gotten used to the idea that many of his patients would not survive long term. Some of his colleagues were able to adjust and go out and have a few laughs ten minutes after they delivered bad news, but Wilson didn't think he would ever be able to advise patients and families to get their affairs in order without losing a bit of himself in the process. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. It just didn't make life any easier. _No wonder Julie accused me of being distant and exhausted every time I came home._

At times like this, he could think of at least two really good reasons why he put up with House, neither of which having anything to do with fun or admiration or his sense of responsibility. Those were true too, but maybe not quite enough to put up with all the bad personal shit that went down on a regular basis. No, House had two elements in his life that took some of hurt out of Wilson's own unhappy concerns.

House had this ability to pull a diagnosis out of his ass at the most peculiar times. While Wilson had always been a bit jealous of this, he sure wouldn't have traded lives with House for _anything_, so he was content to watch and admire from a moderately safe distance. Whenever Wilson was having a rough streak, with patient after patient he couldn't save, and in some cases, couldn't even make comfortable, it was somehow comforting to watch House fix the unfixable. It could happen. It _did_ happen, with House.

But perhaps the most compelling reason to hang around with House was the constant drama. Nothing in Wilson's life was as complicated or as fascinating, in an appalling way, as the situations that House managed to get himself into over and over again. Whenever things got unpleasant at home, Wilson could always distract himself with House's problems. The emotional involvement with House's train wrecks might have contributed to the collapse of his last two marriages ("_You pay more attention to that drug-addicted schmuck than you do to me!")_, but somehow Wilson could live with that.

Take the past few weeks, for instance. House had been and still was busy scheming himself into all kinds of mischief. No one else could manage to lose his entire department over the span of just three days. Of course, Foreman had given notice he was leaving, and that left time for House to grumble and plot. When Wilson found out that House had sabotaged one of Foreman's interviews, he had been surprised that House would go to that length to force Foreman to stay. Unbelievably, at the last minute, House had actually humbled himself enough to _ask_ Foreman to stay. But then, more believably, House had sabotaged the whole thing by ranting at Foreman and making the now-former Fellow glad to be on his way.

In many ways, Wilson was surprised that House had wanted to keep Foreman as much as he had. Foreman was a highly competent doctor, excellent with procedures and good at explaining illnesses to families. He was a good, methodical diagnostician, but Wilson had never seen that spark of brilliance that a diagnostic specialist needed for true excellence. Foreman would do well; he'd end up with his own department and save a lot of patients, but in the end, he'd be sending his toughest cases to House.

Wilson really wasn't all that sorry to see Cameron go. Her resignation was a bit of a shock to House; he hadn't seen that coming. House had recovered quickly, though. Cameron would make an excellent immunologist; she knew her autoimmune diseases, which were some of the toughest conditions to diagnose and treat in all of medicine. She had a lot of knowledge in other disease areas too, but her diagnoses always seemed to end up back at the autoimmune possibilities. Like Foreman, she was professionally solid, but not exceptional.

It was at the personal level that Wilson had problems with Cameron. She had started out her Fellowship as almost a caricature of what female doctors were unfairly rumored to be. She got overly emotional with her patients, to the extent of not being able to be entirely honest with patients and families. She wasn't forceful enough professionally, and then she had developed a crush on her _boss_, made all the more ridiculous because her boss was House.

House was an acquired taste, someone who _might_ grow on you with extended contact (or else you grew to hate his guts for even more reasons). He was not the kind of man you developed a crush on, unless you were an appallingly naïve schoolgirl. Wilson remembered a nurse a while back, who had commented, '_Dr. House has gorgeous blue eyes. Too bad they're attached to Dr. House'._ That seemed to sum up the opinion of casual female observers after they met him.

For a short time, Wilson had even feared that House might get involved in something that couldn't possibly end well. Who wouldn't be flattered by that kind of attention from a beautiful woman? Turned out Wilson hadn't needed to worry after all; House figured out for himself that Cameron didn't like him for the right reasons.

Over the past three years, Cameron had for the most part lost her original squishy sentimentality and became more professional with patients. Unfortunately, in the past six months she had developed an increasingly unattractive cynicism. The way she had treated Chase was just plain mean; common wisdom on the floor had been that Chase would dump her after he'd had his fun, but it had turned out the other way around. Chase really did have a masochistic streak when he continued to pursue Cameron, albeit not in a very zealous way, after she unceremoniously kicked him to the curb. Wilson got the impression that Chase was hurt by the rejection, but certainly not crushed.

No, Cameron had needed to toughen up, but not this much. House was not a good influence on her personality, and it was probably best for everyone that she had moved on.

Chase's firing was something Wilson didn't quite have a handle on yet, although he was developing suspicions. Their relationship had been rocky for a while, but he had gained a lot of respect for Chase in the past few months. In an odd way, getting punched by House might have been a blessing in disguise (although there was no way Wilson would ever suggest that to Chase, or to House, for that matter).

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…_Travel with us now in the way-back machine…_

The day it happened, Wilson heard talk in the hallways about the incident, but since the gossip had escalated to the point where poor, innocent Chase was in intensive care and fighting for his life after a vicious beating by that monster House, Wilson had hoped that the whole story was unfounded. Chase's angry entrance into the break room, sporting a swollen, purple jaw, made it clear that House really _had_ done something that he needed to regret in the morning. Wilson had tried to lighten the mood a bit, but it just wasn't happening.

"_So… what's new?"_

"_House missed one."_

"_It's happened before."_

"_He nearly maimed a little girl. And I got it right. And I told him, and it didn't matter."_

"_Chase, you solved one. You saved a patient. That better be enough for you. Beckett was going to call his play, "Waiting for House's Approval", but decided it was too grim."_

"_Trust me. I'm not waiting any more."_

Chase's parting remark stayed with Wilson and bothered him more than he thought it should. Chase could have easily gotten House suspended on the spot and probably fired. Tritter was investigating fake prescriptions and drug stashes, but those were things that didn't impact the ability of the hospital to function. Most of the hospital employees didn't give a damn what House's problems were. Physically assaulting an employee in front of at least a dozen witnesses, including doctors, staff, and the family members of patients? That wasn't something that Cuddy could sweep under the rug and still maintain any authority within PPTH. If Chase gave the word, House was screwed.

That possibility didn't strike Wilson as the most likely outcome of the incident. He also didn't expect Chase to go to Tritter. In the break room, Chase had seemed more disgusted than angry, so he wasn't likely to punish House with another hasty betrayal. Chase was too smart to get into that type of situation again, and really, what could he tell Tritter that wasn't obvious? That House took a lot of Vicodin? That he asked Chase to write prescriptions for him frequently? That Chase felt a certain sense of obligation to comply? As far as Wilson knew, House had never involved Chase in anything illegal related to his drugs.

He expected Chase to simply quit, and that would not only create problems at the hospital (_House beats his employees until they run away! Literally!), _but it would also wound House personally. House had a definite fondness for Chase, even if that fondness expressed itself with insults, crappy work assignments, and occasional flying objects. Wilson knew from personal experience, and from watching House with Cuddy and Stacy, that when House liked you, he diligently covered it up with verbal abuse and sarcasm, except in rare and very private moments. Watching the interactions within the Diagnostics department, Wilson could clearly see that Chase was the favorite.

No, House would never have struck Chase if he was in control of his faculties. Thank God Chase had stood his ground on this occasion and insisted that House change his diagnosis, or a patient would have suffered terribly. The way things were going, House was not only going to destroy his own life and career, but injure everyone around him, physically or emotionally. Wilson couldn't think of an instance when House had said or done anything crueler than his comments to Cuddy about her parenting skills. Inevitably House was going to kill a patient in his current state, and at this point, Wilson was convinced that Tritter could keep up the pressure longer than House could take it. Wilson knew that House couldn't go on like this; something needed to be done, and there just weren't that many people who would be willing to step in and try to save House from himself.

Damn.

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…_Return to present in Wilson's lonely hotel room…_

Wilson hadn't expected Chase to make a formal complaint against House for hitting him, and he didn't. He had told Cuddy and anyone else who inquired, depending on his mood, that it was an accident, or House was in pain and not thinking straight, or Chase himself had provoked House, or it was no big deal, and several other rationalizations that Wilson couldn't remember anymore. House had of course evaded Tritter, with a lot of help from his friends and without actually kicking his drug habit. Eventually, he had even started speaking to Wilson again and they were back on good terms.

Surprisingly, though, Chase hadn't quit after House's meltdown. But Wilson saw a change in Chase's demeanor; he had a new confidence in his own diagnoses, and he had called several tough ones on his own. Apparently Chase really _had_ turned away from seeking House's approval, and was simply trusting his own judgment. At this point in his career, his judgment was sharp enough to solve cases that had Wilson and Cuddy stumped.

Ironically enough, Wilson thought, Foreman had said he was quitting because he didn't want to turn into House. Wilson himself had gotten it right at the time when he told House,

"_He's not afraid to be you. He's afraid to be…who he thinks you are." _

Foreman might have the right shoes, but he didn't have the drive or personal demons that made House...House. The former Fellow focused on House's faults, but ignored what made him a brilliant doctor – the things that were worth emulating. Those were the characteristics that seemed to come more naturally to Chase. Of the three Fellows, Chase was definitely the one who mirrored House's better qualities. Foreman and Cameron were relatively linear in their thinking, but House and Chase could take logical leaps that weren't always easy to follow. Chase was particularly good at coming up with unorthodox, low-tech treatment options that worked. He could think on his feet and change intellectual and conversational directions very quickly. He had always had the sort of dry sense of humor that worked well in House's presence, and now that he had built up his confidence, Chase could match House snark for snark. Chase had become downright insightful about some of House's behaviors, or maybe he always had been and simply kept his observations to himself until now.

So, with the new and improved Chase in place, why the hell had House suddenly fired him? Wilson knew it wasn't because Chase was frequently talking back to House these days; House _liked_ that. When pressed, House had provided a little song and dance about how Chase was all grown up now and didn't need House to hold his hand anymore, and since he was afraid to leave the nest, House needed to gently prod him on his way.

Well, Wilson and Cuddy both called shenanigans on _that_ explanation. There was no way House was getting away with the 'it's for his own good' rationalization. Ironically, Chase had been fully capable of turning the situation to his own advantage, but that was to Chase's credit, not House's. No, House had ulterior motives in firing Chase, and they seemed to be focused on converting Chase from an employee to a colleague. Since House would be able to exploit Chase's diagnostic abilities in either capacity, there had to be something about changing the power structure that interested House.

There had been other little clues in House's behavior lately that were leading Wilson to a new hypothesis about what House was up to. If his suspicions were correct, he wondered what Chase's reaction would be to the discovery that House's interest in his future might extend beyond the professional.

This was going to be worthy of a telenovela.

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Of course I won't stop now that it's just getting interesting; just remember that reviews light a fire under my butt and speed the updates!


	7. Chapter 7

SUMMARY: Chase is getting it together, and House is making life is more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: Just borrowing. Thanks, creators! How about a decent Chase-filled episode in Season 4?

Author's Note: Many, many thanks to all my readers and reviewers! It makes all the work worthwhile.

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Part 7

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Wilson headed to Chase's workspace to pick him up for their lunch date. Wilson was curious to see how things were going now that Chase was back on the job in the ICU. Oddly enough, House had been willing to keep his distance for those first few days, allowing Chase some time to settle in. It had to be the calm before the storm, though. House had his feelers out about Chase's activities, and while no one had much interest in gossiping with House, he did have a knack for getting information in roundabout ways.

House had reacted with unholy glee after determining that Cameron had indeed taken another position on the West Coast. He remarked to Wilson on several occasions that Cameron "wasn't right" for Chase, and Wilson had finally decided to call him on it.

"So, if Cameron isn't right for Chase, did you have someone else in mind?"

House grinned. "I have no idea who's right for Chase. He's a big boy; he'll figure it out. On the other hand, I know who Chase is right _for_."

Well, that might be the last piece of the puzzle. "No, House. You wouldn't dare, after all the crap you've pulled already." Wilson paused. "Actually, we both know you _would_ dare, so scratch that. I'm going to pretend I have no idea what you're talking about."

Wilson wondered if the only decent thing to do might be to warn Chase.

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Chase was studying his computer screen as Wilson approached his desk. "Wilson, have you seen this week's New England Journal, the article about HER2-positive breast cancer treatment regimens?"

"Actually, no. At the rate my schedule is going, I should catch up on my journals in about, oh, 2012."

"One of the few benefits of being out of work is the opportunity to actually get some reading done. Have a look at these data on the relative success of paclitaxel regimens."

Wilson walked around the desk to have a look at the screen, and something pink caught his eye on Chase's bookshelf. When he recognized what was in the cubbyhole, visible only from behind Chase's desk, he burst out laughing.

"What?" Chase frowned.

Wilson grinned and pointed to the bookshelf. "You know, House must really like you a lot if he gave you one of those too. I admire your bravery; I keep mine packed in a box in storage."

Chase looked over at his newly acquired 'treasure' and started grinning too. "Only House could find something like this and then actually give it to someone. Forgive me if I'm not entirely flattered."

"Chase, you have to admit; not just anyone could get their hands on a foot-high pink plastic "Answer Me Jesus". Mere mortals – and that includes House himself –make do with a plain old-fashioned Magic 8 Ball." Wilson reached over and grabbed the cheesy statue of Jesus.

"Oh Jesus," Wilson proclaimed airily, "Tell us if House will ever reach the maturity of a ten-year-old." Wilson turned the statue upside-down and checked the message. "See, Chase, it says, 'Have faith, my son'."

"You know, Wilson, that thing is really quite… blasphemous."

"Cheer up. At least you're not Jewish."

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Chase enjoyed his lunch with Wilson. House did not make an appearance, probably because they drove thirty minutes from the hospital and hid the car. Wilson swore that he waited until House was in the middle of one of his soap operas before sneaking out. It was really rather pathetic; two grown men trying desperately to avoid the schoolyard bully.

They talked about Chase's new job and various bits of hospital gossip. He discovered that Wilson was still living in the hotel, apparently getting quite comfortable. Cuddy had been dumping fellowship applications on House's desk, without arousing much interest on House's part. Chase wondered who was doing House's clinic duty these days, but he didn't ask.

Over coffee, Wilson gave Chase an appraising look. "He misses you, you know."

"Yeah? Well, he shouldn't have fired me, then. Problem avoided."

"I'm pretty sure that at some level, House regrets firing you. Of course, he buries that level pretty deep, so it's not much consolation."

"Doesn't matter now anyway. I've landed on my feet and I'm back in intensive care, working my specialty. In some ways, I may have gotten the better end of the deal."

"You should probably know that House says he did you a big favor. Firing you was supposed to be a compliment to your medical abilities."

Chase grimaced. "Only House could rationalize one of his temper tantrums as a back-handed compliment. At the Outback Steakhouse they refer to that as kangaroos loose in the attic."

"I'll have to remember that one, Chase. It may be the best explanation I've heard yet."

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Chase didn't have much time to think about House or anything else of a personal nature during the afternoon, due to a string of emergencies in the ICU. It never failed that several patients would go into cardiac arrest within a short time, and then nothing for hours. He hoped his overnight shift would be quieter.

Finally he had some downtime to work on charts. The steady night sound of machines and absence of human noise were reassuring; the unit was in equilibrium for a while. He was absorbed in his paperwork, but not so much that he didn't notice the light tapping sound he had come to associate with House sneaking up on him. _Great, just what I needed tonight._

Chase restrained himself from looking up when House reaching the doorway and stopped. He kept on writing for more than a minute before he heard the familiar voice.

"You're not fooling me, you know. I can see by the little hairs standing up on the back of your neck that you know I'm here."

Chase still didn't look up. "You can't see the back of my neck from there, House."

"Don't need to. I _am_ a diagnostician, after all."

"Is there a reason you're lurking in my doorway? I'm busy. Go bother Wilson."

"Boy Wonder's gone home for the night. You're the next best thing."

Chase threw down his pen, leaned back and glared at House. "No, I was the _last_ best thing. You're forgetting that I'm not your captive audience anymore."

House apparently took Chase's acknowledgement as an invitation to saunter into the office and sit in the nearest chair. "Ah, but you _are_, as long as I'm between you and the door."

Chase just shook his head. "Guess you got me, there. I never could keep up with your lightning-fast logic. Is there a purpose to this intrusion?"

House had busied himself tossing his cane back and forth between his hands. "Are you bored yet?"

"By this conversation? Yes."

"No, by the ICU."

Chase frowned. "Why would I be bored with the ICU? Ignoring the fact that I've only been working here full-time for a week and a half, intensive care _is_ my chosen specialty. I doubt many doctors would consider saving lives on an hourly basis boring."

Now House looked up and scowled at Chase. "Come off it. This is a no-brainer position. You could train a monkey to do the procedures you're wasting your time on."

Chase locked into eye contact with House and scowled back. "Thank you. Would those be flying monkeys or robot monkeys?"

House was trying to look thoughtful. "Hmm, which are smarter, I wonder. It would be the other kind."

"House, I have work to do. _You_ seem to be the one who's bored. If you just want to point out to me that the wonderful job you fired me from was much better than my current position, just say it. Then I can pretend to look hurt and you can go back to your office and pretend it's a job well done."

Finally the cane stopped passing back and forth, and House assumed a serious expression.

"I want you to come work as a consultant for the Diagnostics Department."

Chase didn't know whether to laugh or scream. "You fired me, remember?"

"I fired you as a _Fellow_. Now you can come back as an attending consultant."

_This has been building for a long time, _Chase thought grimly._ Anger control, Chase. Anger control._ "A month ago, I wasn't worth the courtesy of two weeks notice. Now you've decided you can somehow find it in your heart to work with me again? Why in God's name would you think I'd even consider working with you?"

"Wait, I know this one. Would it be because you love Diagnostics?"

"Not that much."

"You like working with me?"

"Definitely wrong."

"You're a glutton for punishment?"

"I'm getting help for that, so, no, not anymore."

House made one of his patented mock-scowls. "You drive a hard bargain these days. OK, you win; I'll take you on a date if you come back."

Chase laughed. "You can save that for Cameron. You do seem to have missed your chance with Foreman, though."

Now House was scowling for real. "Cameron made me do it, and I had no interest in going out with Foreman."

Chase glared at the wall above House's head and counted to three. "What's that supposed to mean?"_ It had better not mean what I think._

"Don't be dense. It means that I'm actually _interested_ in going out with you."

Chase willed himself to be very still. "Let me get this straight. You want to go on a _DATE _with me?"

House smirked. "Well, have _sex_ would probably be more accurate. They aren't the same, you know, no matter what you Limeys think."

Chase was just… beyond gobsmacked. House had insinuated something along these lines last Christmas, but never followed up in any way. Chase had assumed that House's drunken stupor at the time explained that bit of weirdness. Did he actually think he had the right to bring it up NOW? He stared at his desk for a moment and then picked up a textbook, considering whether he should clock House in the head with it. _Anger control, Chase. Mustn't lose your temper, no matter how much provocation you've had over the past three years. On the other hand…_

Instead of throwing the book, he slammed it down on the desk hard enough to make his pencils jump. He kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the tone. "Goddamn it, House! You truly are mad. You think you can hand me a pink slip and then, _what_? Try to get into my pants?"

Although he was trying to cover it up, House was clearly taken aback by Chase's vehemence. "Oh c'mon, I told you to leave for your own good. You didn't need the fellowship anymore, and you would have hung around forever without a little push."

"A little _push_? "You're fired" is not a little push. It's another bloody face-punch. Was _that_ for my own good too? No, wait, I remember. That was you being pissed off at life in general."

"What do you want to hear? OK, I could have handled…things…a bit better."

Chase couldn't remember being this angry in a long time. He stood up and gestured toward the door. "You know what? I don't want to hear another bloody word from you. You must think I'm a real fuck-wit, to fall for this crap again. Get out, House."

House started to say something, then clearly thought better of it. As he passed though the door, Chase kicked it shut behind him. _Bloody ratbag! Feels good to finally let a bit of it out._

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_Ouch_, House thought as he got on the elevator. _That didn't go well at all. Chase didn't even bother to correct the Limey joke. Not a good sign._

It was nothing new to have someone really angry with him, but _Chase_? Chase didn't _do_ angry. Annoyed, yes, and sometimes even loud, when he disagreed with something professionally, but never openly angry. Passive-aggressive was more his style.

Clearly he was going to need a different approach if he wanted to develop a new personal and professional relationship with Chase. He remembered something Chase had said a while ago about convincing Foreman to stay on:

"_He might not want a date, but he does want something." _

"_Well, maybe it's something I can't offer," _House had replied.

"_Then you'll just lie." _

"_He'd see through it." _

"_Maybe. Maybe he'll just see what he wants to see."_

Hmm. Now all he had to do was figure out what Chase really wanted to see.

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TBC - Talk to me, readers!


	8. Chapter 8

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Part 8

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These days, Wilson liked to think that nothing House did could shock him. Of course, it was a fool's dream, but it allowed him to retain some measure of sanity. In his own favor, though, House's current revelation wasn't a shock at all.

"Let me get this straight. You asked Chase out on a date."

House leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "Yep, I did. He didn't fall for it though."

"Wow. He actually maintained his sense of self-preservation in the presence of your rakish charms. My opinion of Chase just went up."

"I'm wounded, Wilson. Chase is an idiot if he can't appreciate the honor I'm offering to bestow upon him."

"Riiiight." Wilson made his time-honored 'skeptical' face, reserved only for House. "Chase must be an idiot for not setting himself up for more of your abuse. I can see what an obvious mistake that would be on his part."

House smirked. "Hey, are you being sarcastic? I hate it when you're sarcastic. That's my job. Anyway, we both know he'll cave eventually."

"Why? Because you'll harass him until he does?"

"Well, yes, that's the plan. Part of the plan, anyway. He's holding out for something. I just have to figure out what that something is."

Wilson got up and headed for the door. "Have fun with that. Some of us actually have a department to run."

"Sure, rub it in," House called after him. His only reply was Wilson's dismissive wave of the hand.

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_Anger control, Chase. Anger control. Don't even go there until you chill out._

Chase wasn't sure what was going on with House, but he wasn't going to allow himself to get sucked in. He'd spent a fair amount of energy since last spring trying to get rid of his emotional dependency on House, and by the time House had fired him…well, that bridge was burned.

_Let's take a trip in the way-back machine…_

It was certainly a memorable day when Chase finally came up with a diagnosis that proved House completely wrong, and got clobbered for his trouble. That punch in the jaw had initiated a true epiphany for Chase. When he'd finally gone home and looked in the mirror to assess the damage, he'd almost literally seen a light bulb beaming over his head. It wasn't just that House's diagnosis was completely wrong. It wasn't that House had adamantly dismissed Chase's correct diagnosis. It wasn't that House had actually _hit_ him, and it certainly wasn't the lack of an apology afterwards. That was all very House – even the punch was semi-understandable, given House's mood and the fact that Chase had been deliberately blocking his path.

Well, understandable to Chase, at least - Cuddy had been beside herself when she heard about the incident, which was undoubtedly destined to be the talk of the hospital for weeks. It was only Chase's firm insistence that it was no big deal that kept House from a formal censure from the hospital board and a lengthy suspension. Chase was unhappy about what happened, and certainly didn't take it as lightly as his disclaimers implied, but with the on-going Tritter investigation, it just wasn't the time for an open expression of moral outrage against his boss.

No, the pieces of the puzzle had started crashing together when Chase was talking to Wilson afterward.

"_He nearly maimed a little girl. And I got it right. And I told him, and it didn't matter."_

"_Chase, you solved one. You saved a patient. That better be enough for you. Beckett was going to call his play, "Waiting for House's Approval", but decided it was too grim."_

Suddenly, Chase realized he had heard this before – over and over, from every friend he had ever had. Except _they_ had been talking about his father.

House wasn't the problem here. He was just…House. The problem was Chase himself and his desire, his _need_, for approval. Approval was something he had never gotten from his father, right up to the end, and Chase didn't need a psych specialty to know that approval was something he desperately wanted. He hadn't had a choice of father, but he'd sure as hell picked his boss, and he had stupidly, _willingly_, chosen the exact person least likely to give him what he wanted.

He remembered a poster he had once seen: _Remember that the only common factor in all your bad relationships is YOU._

"_Trust me. I'm not waiting any more."_

_End of contemplative interlude…_

Chase had known that he couldn't keep repeating his behavior pattern if he wanted to maintain any illusion of sanity. He kept remembering another saying, _Stupidity is doing what you've always done, and expecting a result different from what you've always gotten._ He had thought he was shifting his relationship with House to a healthier place, despite all the reprehensible crap House was dishing out.

Then House fired him and who knew what House was up to with that little dodge? And now, House claimed that he wanted something from Chase. What House _needed_ was a hearty kick around the block. Repeatedly.

In the past, Chase would have assumed that this whole 'date' business was House setting him up for humiliation. Now he wasn't so sure. House was just daft enough to think that Chase would forgive and forget, and go back to his old, pliant self. In fact, knowing House, he probably didn't even realize how much there was to forgive. Well, if House came around again, he was going to find out.

Chase wasn't going to allow himself to get sucked into House's game. He _wasn't_, damn it.

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"So what do you think Chase really wants?"

Wilson slumped forward and banged his forehead on his desk a couple of times, then leaned back and frowned. "House, you keep asking me that. I don't know and I'm trying to work. Why don't you just ask Chase?"

"I'm betting Chase doesn't know what he wants. Yet."

"And I'm betting that avoiding him isn't going to solve the problem."

"It's only been two days; I don't call that avoiding."

"Are you really that surprised that Chase is angry with you?" Wilson said.

"Why would he be angry about me firing him? It's not like he didn't get another job immediately. Besides, Chase doesn't _get_ angry."

"Based on your description, for someone who doesn't get angry, he does a _very_ good imitation. Has it ever occurred to you that he has more reasons to be angry with you than just getting fired?"

Wilson wasn't about to point out to House that he had spoken with Chase yesterday about the confrontation with House. Chase was still seething, in a stiff-upper-lip sort of way. Wilson still wondered if something specific had happened in Chase's past to make him so uncomfortable with showing his anger. Rowan Chase hadn't seemed like the kind of father who would tolerate that type of behavior, but still, that would have been a long time ago.

In any case, Chase had no trouble counting off a list of things that House deserved to be throttled for, and it was clear that he could have come up with plenty more. Wilson couldn't argue with any of it. In fact, he was surprised that Chase only mentioned things from the past six or seven months; House's conflicts with Chase dated a lot farther back than that. Wilson encouraged Chase to have it out with House and be done with it.

Especially if it meant that House would stop bugging him about what Chase was thinking.

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When Chase arrived at his 'office' (really, more of a converted broom closet) the next morning, he found a dozen bright coral roses on his desk. He let out an exasperated sigh_. Let me guess._

He pulled out the simple card, which gave the appearance of having been scrawled in less than a second by a familiar hand.

_Wilson says we need to talk. H_

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TBC, fer shur

Feed the plot bunnies, please!


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

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Wilson spotted Chase nursing a cup of coffee in the cafeteria the next morning. Both of them obviously had an early morning call. He walked over. "May I join you?"

Chase smiled. "Of course. Always a pleasure to see you without your evil twin."

Wilson laughed. "It does feel that way sometimes, How are you doing?"

"Just fine. Trying to wake up before I hit the NICU."

After a companionable pause, Wilson said, "He hasn't heard back from you for a whole day. You're driving him crazy, you know."

Chase didn't need to ask who. "Good, although admittedly it's a short trip."

Wilson chuckled again. Chase was just what he needed this morning.

"By the way, Wilson, thank you for the flowers. I suppose you even chose the color."

"Guilty as charged. House really did want to come up with some, as he put it, 'traditional romantic gesture'."

Chase shook his head. "Wilson, do you know what his game is here? There's no way I can take this at face value."

"Face value is never a good bet with House. However, in your case, I don't think he's joking. He's not very good at this, but I think he really is trying to get you back into his little world, one way or another."

"His professional world, I can understand. Especially since he doesn't have anyone to do his scut work these days, although that's not a role I'm going to fill ever again. On the other hand, I like to think I can bring something to the table diagnostically. House has to think out loud, and he needs an audience; that I can manage, at least in theory. He must be driving you barking mad listening to his semi-random brainstorms."

"No kidding. I'd change the lock on my office door, but he'd just pound on the door for a few seconds and then break in."

"True." Chase's smile turned more serious. "Wilson, I know you're House's friend, and I don't want to put you in an awkward situation, and I'm going to sound like a major idiot if I'm reading this wrong. But maybe you can explain something to me."

"Depends, but ask away."

"Is House really interested in me personally? He asked me on what he called a 'date', and I realize that doesn't mean much, under the circumstances. But he's been hinting – saying, actually - that he's interested in…a more intimate encounter as well. Is he trying to mess with my head, or am I imagining things, or what?"

Wilson looked down at his cup of coffee thoughtfully for a moment. He then raised his head and looked Chase straight in the eyes. "You're not imagining it, and I think he really might be serious. As serious as House allows himself to get, anyway."

Chase leaned back and frowned. "Even if I could accept his interest as completely sincere, he's burned a lot of bridges as far as I'm concerned. Until he rebuilds them, I don't see any chance of us developing a…personal relationship."

"So, are you going to at least talk to him?"

"If he wants to talk to me, that's fine. It's his choice; I'll listen."

"You're _trying_ to drive him crazy, aren't you," Wilson chuckled. "You _know_ how much House likes to talk about real, human stuff."

Chase smiled enigmatically. "House needs to understand that he's not in charge of my life anymore. I'm no longer required to do his work for him. If he wants something from me, he's going to work for it himself."

Wilson stood up. "Good for you; he deserves to get his ass kicked. Someone needs to stand up to him, and I'm afraid that Cuddy and I have given up for the moment. Good luck with that."

"Well, we'll see how it goes." With that, Chase grabbed his empty coffee cup and headed off to start his day.

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Chase was surprised that House held out until mid-afternoon. He had long ago set his pager for a unique buzz for House's messages. When his pager went off, the screen read, 'Talk. When."

He waited 30 minutes, then texted back, "Busy."

The reply was immediate; "Bored here."

Chase's reply; "Too bad." He then pocketed his pager and resolved not to check the message that quickly arrived. Or the next two either. Passive-aggressive was easy when you were actually working.

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House was feeling more than a little frustrated. He knew Chase wasn't much into talking about personal issues either, but he could at least play along here, since House himself was trying. When his last three text messages didn't get a response, he realized he would have to find Chase in person.

He knew Chase's shift was over at seven today, so he waited until eight and went to Chase's office, making himself comfortable. When his target finally arrived, House was disappointed that Chase was clearly expecting him. _Damn, I'm getting obvious. I _knew_ Chase was my Fellow for too long._

Chase settled back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap, and looked at House blandly. "You want something?"

"Don't play dumb; it doesn't suit you. I told you I was willing to talk."

Chase grabbed his bag and headed for the door. "Don't do me any favors, House. This is your game. I'm tired and I'm going home."

House also rose. "Let's go get a drink, then."

"Let's not. If you want to talk, make an appointment. Then you can talk all you like."

"Make an a_ppointment_? You're an attending; I'm a department head. I outrank you."

"Different departments, House. And I suspect that what you have to say isn't going to be totally professional anyway."

House scowled. "Fine, then. When can we _agree_ to _meet_ for a _talk_?"

Chase went back to his desk and pulled out his schedule sheet. "How about day after tomorrow? I'm off at seven. We can make it eight again."

"Day after _tomorrow_? What if this can't wait?"

"I'm betting it's _you_ who can't wait. That's my first opening. We can try for next week, if you prefer."

"You were much nicer when you were my Fellow, you know."

"You're the one who said it was time for a change. Am I remembering that correctly?"

House narrowed his eyes and glared a Chase for a moment. Finally he ground out, "Fine, then. Day after tomorrow, eight pm. Where?"

"I'll come down to the Diagnostics conference room when I'm done with my shift."

"Ooh, you're gonna come to my territory."

"No, House. Your office is your territory. The conference room is _my_ territory, after practically living there for three years."

House suddenly brightened. "OK, it's a date, then."

"You can call it whatever you like, House. I'll see you then."

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_Two Days Later_

Chase was secretly a little pleased that a critical case arrived just before the end of his shift. This morning he had very briefly considered simply waiting an extra hour or two before he went to see House, but he knew that was carrying the passive-aggressive thing a little too far. Besides, it would be such a…House-like thing to do.

Actually, he was a little ashamed he even thought about deliberately being late. It was petty and it certainly wouldn't help the situation. Now he was going to be late anyway, but at least he wouldn't have to feel guilty about it.

As Chase cleaned up and changed, he wondered how things had come to this state with House. He had been dead serious when he told Cameron and Foreman (and didn't that seem like ages ago) that he genuinely liked House. Having cared for an alcoholic mother for many years, Chase found it relatively easy to simply accept House's unpredictable and sometimes eccentric behavior. He had always found House intriguing, professionally and personally. Although most people didn't see it, they had a lot in common, and yet Chase had never met anyone quite like him. It made for an interesting but very complicated relationship.

House had verbally harassed him for so many years, sent him to do the most demeaning and sometimes illegal chores, and Chase _had_ accepted it, until recently. He knew their relationship had started to change last Christmas, when House had come up with the double whammy of hitting him and then making a pass at him. Chase had ultimately written off House's request for a kiss as a drunken joke, but now, House was expressing interest again._ How dare he?_

Chase hadn't realized how much anger he had stored up for House until the past few days. It hadn't even come out when House fired him, but this time House had pushed the final magic button that brought it all up at once. He knew that if he and House didn't work this out now, they had no chance for _any_ sort of future relationship.

And the saddest part was, he knew that you couldn't get this mad at someone unless you cared a great deal about them. He wasn't ready to come to terms with that; at least, not yet.

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When Chase arrived at the Diagnostics department, the lights were dim but he could see House sitting at the conference room table, playing with his yoyo. He grabbed a chair and waited.

House didn't look up. "Glad you could join us. The meeting started without you."

"Then you'll have to fill me in later."

House tossed the yoyo on the table. "I hope you weren't expecting more flowers."

"No, the roses still look lovely at the nurse's station."

"Not a flowers kinda guy, huh?"

"Come off it, House. What do you think? You're not the kind of guy who _sends_ flowers either."

"Guilty as charged," House smiled.

There was a long silence. With his best impassive expression, Chase just looked at House, whose smile faded, followed by what could only be described as fidgeting. Finally, House couldn't stand it anymore.

"OK, I get that you're angry with me. May I ask why, exactly? I don't see that my firing you has had any lasting bad effects."

"None that _you_ seem to care about, anyway. And yes, you may ask, and no, I don't see why I should have to explain decent human behavior to a grown man."

"Well, I never claimed to be entirely human, you know."

"I know. But you _do_ claim to be smart and I know you weren't raised in a barn. You know what you've been about over the years, and you know how wrong some of it has been, and you don't give a rat's ass. So no, don't play innocent with me."

House scowled. "When have I ever claimed to be innocent? You're a grown man too, so let's cut the crap and move on."

"I _have_ moved on, House, or haven't you noticed?"

"You've changed jobs, but you haven't changed _you_. People don't change."

Chase looked away to the window, although there was nothing to see. "Maybe not, but the way I look at our…relationship…_has_ changed."

"That's good; I'm trying to change our relationship too. This could be one of those win-win situations people like Cuddy talk about." House smiled again.

Chase shook his head in response. "Unfortunately for your apparent agenda, those changes have moved us in opposite directions."

"We can get past that. Look, you're not even pretending to be angry anymore."

"House, you wouldn't _recognize _if I was angry, unless I lost control and yelled at you again."

House leaned back again and looked at Chase thoughtfully. "And we both know you don't like losing control, do you."

"Do _you_?"

"Touché. So, now that you've gotten your one big emotional display for the year out of the way, let's talk about your future."

Chase rose and leaned over the table. "No, House. Once you fired me, you lost the right to meddle in my future. Worry about your own. I hope you and Wilson will be very happy together, because no one else wants to have anything to do with you."

Chase straightened and headed for the door, turning back for a few seconds. "You've crossed the line with me far too many times," he said softly, "and the sad part is, you never even realized there _was_ a line."

And then he left House sitting at the table, looking perplexed. _Shit,_ Chase thought as he headed down the hall. _I do _not_ want to care about that bloody jack-off._

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Don't worry, the above discussion is not over yet.

Season 4 has been de-motivating so far. Comments are encouraging. You do the math.


	10. Chapter 10

SUMMARY: Chase is getting it together, and House is making life more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not. And right now, he doesn't.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, although I have a few suggestions. There's still a chance to pull this season out of the toilet, PTB. Don't eff it up!

A/N: My beta (Yay, Laura!) suggested that I put the text messages in bold. As always, the thoughts are in italics.

Oh, and this probably loses a lot unless you've read the last scene in Part 9 recently.

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Part 10

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_OK, another meeting with Chase that didn't go well,_ House admitted to himself as he sat in his office the next morning. _What's my next move?_ He wasn't sure what was going on with Chase, but now he had a new part of the puzzle to solve. _Thank you, Chase; you're the inscrutable gift that keeps on giving._

He had no doubts that he'd managed to cross all sorts of lines of acceptable behavior over the years, but Chase had kinda, mostly, been a good sport about it before. Sure, House had annoyed and insulted the younger doctor constantly, but Chase had a lot more tolerance for House than the vast majority of people, and he kept coming back and accepting more of the same.

House wondered how much being fired actually had to do with Chase's current state of mind. He could readily admit that it wasn't his smoothest move, but damn it, Chase _was_ ready to move on from the Fellowship. Chase's self-confidence had grown so much those last few months, it was pointless for him to remain under House's supervision.

Years ago, Chase had been so worried about being fired he'd made a deal with Vogler to keep his job. House had always suspected that Rowan Chase was part of the reason for that. After Dear Old Daddy Chase tried to convince House over the phone that his son wasn't all that special and certainly not worth the trouble of bringing over from Australia, House had, of course, immediately hired the kid, figuring that the drama alone would make it all worthwhile. Damned if Chase didn't turn out to be as good a doctor as his resume promised, and the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous was just the maraschino cherry on top. Between Chase and Cameron, House was the proud owner of the prettiest department at PPTH.

And the drama House had been anticipating? Except for the time when House had forced Chase and Rowan together, the drama was all locked inside Chase's head. House could never really figure out what had gone through Chase's mind after his father died. The medical mistake he understood. The desperate attempts to save Kayla's life? Those made sense. Fucking up an entire career just to keep a secret that wasn't even incriminating? Well, House had to admit that he might do something like that himself, but he also knew that it wasn't…_healthy _behavior.

Sooooo…What was going on in Chase's head now? Only one way to find out:

Ask Wilson.

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"House, I hate sounding like a broken record, but how do you expect me to get any work done? Unlike you, I really do have a department," Wilson sighed in exasperation at the man sprawled on his office sofa.

"You're a department head. Delegate!"

"Thanks, House. It never occurred to me. Did it ever occur to _you_ that I'd rather do my job than sit around discussing personal matters I know nothing about?"

"You know _something_. You've been talking to Chase; I've seen you. He must have told you something."

"And has it ever occurred to you that we have other things to discuss than you? No, wait, I forgot. You're the center of the universe. What else could possibly interest us?"

House scowled at Wilson, then used his wheedling voice. "C'mon, Jimmy. You're the people-person. Either tell me what's up or go find out."

"What would it matter? We have this conversation over and over again. You bother me. I point out that I need to work. You don't go away. I tell you to talk to Chase. You ignore my advice."

"Hey, I _did_ talk to Chase! Your advice sucked."

"It's the only advice I have, House. One conversation does not create the proverbial open lines of communication. Do it again."

"This would be much easier if you'd talk to him for me. You could get him to agree to anything with your mad 'Gee-I'm-sorry-you're-dying-of-cancer' skillz."

"I doubt that, House. Although…" Wilson put on his most studiously thoughtful look. "Maybe I could get him to go out with _me_. I'm between wives, Chase is available; it could work."

House went back to his scowl. "Very funny. Chase has no funbags; you'd hate it. What kind of a friend are you if you won't do this one little favor for me?"

"Forget it. And I take it that buying you lunch every day doesn't constitute a favor?" Wilson shook his head. "House, what do you expect is going to happen? Chase isn't at your beck and call anymore. What is it you think he's going to do; go back to your place when he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you?"

"Wellll…" House drawled, looking thoughtfully out the window.

Wilson finally put down his pen, leaning back to look at House for a few moments. "You continually surprise me, House. This isn't just about harassing a former employee. You really _like_ him, don't you?"

House grimaced and shrugged. "He's okay."

"No, he's not just okay." Wilson leaned forward and grinned. "You really, _really_ like him."

"Have it your way, but that's definitely at least one too many 'really's," House scowled.

"Oh, this is great. I feel like I've got a front row seat at a Gallagher show, only much, much funnier. I need to find a tarp to hide under. Look, you said Chase was angry, right? And he's still angry? I'd make another bet that you won't make any progress in getting on his good side until _you_ figure out what he's angry about and apologize."

"Yeah," House snorted, "Like Chase expects _that_ to happen."

"House, shut up and go figure it out. That's what you do. And pleeeease, leave me out of it."

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An hour later, Wilson finally spotted Chase in a back corner of the Urology lounge and headed over. _Undoubtedly hiding from House; they'll let him stay if they know why he's here._ He slid into a seat across from Chase, who was reading the newspaper way too avidly. Realizing that Chase was refusing to acknowledge his presence, Wilson had no choice but to vent his frustration. He reached over, grabbed the top of the paper and yanked it down. When Chase glared at him, Wilson started to pull his own hair with both hands, making the most ridiculous face he could come up with, and growling, "Make. It. Stop."

Chase looked at him in wonder for a moment, and then started laughing. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named is driving you crazy, I take it? I thought that was supposed to be _his_ destination."

Wilson slumped in his seat and rubbed his temples. "He went there, brought it back, and passed it around. I can't take this much longer. I _will_ have to kill him soon and then none of it will matter."

"Wilson, I really am sorry House has stuck you in the middle of whatever he thinks he's doing. What are the chances he'll move on to some other recreational outlet soon?"

"None. He's obsessed with you and your attitude, Chase. He's trying to figure out why you're mad at him, and given that his insight into his own behavior is…unique, he's not having any luck. Therefore, he keeps bothering me about it, and damned if I know exactly why you're mad _now_, because I don't know why you didn't kill him years ago. God knows he's given you enough provocation."

"That'd be right," Chase sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what I can do about him at this point. Things between us are so screwed up I don't know if there's a chance of salvaging anything. Do you think I can make him leave me alone? That might get him off your back."

Wilson shook his head sadly. "You know how House is almost as well as I do. As far as he's concerned, he's officially on your case, which means he's like a hungry dog chasing a great big bone."

"Well, that's a flattering image. You're right though; he's planning to hunt me down, chew me up, and shit me out the other end."

"Ugh. Your image is much worse than mine. And under normal circumstances, I'd figure you were right. The strangest part of this is…" Wilson stopped for a moment. "Not to betray any confidences, but he _likes_ you. He wants you to like _him_. And he just doesn't have a clue how to make that happen."

"You see, I just don't get that. He's had his chances before and totally blown me off. I can't wrap my head around this current business, supposedly so we can be…best mates or something. No offense."

Wilson sighed. "None taken. Think of it like a little kid on the playground. He sees some girl he likes, but he has no idea how to approach her. So he runs up and punches her in the arm, and then runs away. She's supposed to figure out what it means and be his girlfriend."

"And I'm the girl here?"

"Well, figuratively. You're the mysterious 'other' he can't figure out how to talk to."

Chase took in how weary Wilson looked. "Is there something I can do to get him to ease up on you, at least? Besides throwing up my hands and pretending everything's fine, that is. I don't mean to make this more difficult for anyone but House."

"Tell me this, Chase," Wilson asked. "Do you have any interest in mending things between you and House?"

Suddenly Chase felt weary too. He looked down at the table and grimaced. "Yeah, I guess I do. I don't want to feel…drawn…to House, but apparently I am."

"I know the feeling," Wilson smiled. "He's a jackass and a pain, and we just cain't quit him."

Chase laughed. "Coupla right chumps, aren't we."

"The way I see it, Chase? House is one of those people with a truly magnetic personality. If you're not utterly repelled by him, you're stuck with a strange, irresistible attraction to him instead."

"Good analogy. The thing is, though…" Chase frowned. "I can't go back to the way things were, and I can't ignore the way things are now with him. He may enjoy acting like that kid on the playground, but he needs to understand that his actions have consequences for other people. I would never expect him to apologize for anything, not in a conventional sense, anyway, but an acknowledgement that how the rest of us feel matters too would go a long way toward patching things up. I'll spare you the details of what's wrong, because they're personal and you shouldn't be stuck in the middle of this. I'm willing to point him in the right direction if he asks the right questions."

"Seems reasonable to me. Of course, House isn't a reasonable kind of guy, but maybe you can force him to try it. He really wants something from you; it may be the best chance any of us will have to get through to him."

Chase smiled again. "Good luck to us both, then."

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House twirled around in his desk chair for a while and finally decided this was all too tedious; he just couldn't narrow down the list of things Chase might not be happy about. He grabbed his pager and texted Chase:

**Truce?**

The answer cost him 45 minutes of impatience, and definitely wasn't what he was hoping for.

**Nope.**

_At least Chase answered. That must be progress._

**Why not? **_There.__That ought to be direct enough for Wilson._

The immediate response:

**Better question - why?**

_Alright_, House thought. _This is pager war,_ as he tapped out,

**I asked first.**

**And I care - why? **Chase replied.

**Duh. Kiss and make up. **_Direct and to the point yet again,_ House nodded in self-approval for the few seconds until Chase's response arrived:

**No thanks.**

_Damn. This is annoying. _

**Pissy much?**

Chase's answer was almost instantaneous:

**Yep.**

_Damn it,_ House thought.

**Why?**_ If he'd just answer this one question, we'd be home free._

When Chase didn't respond in five minutes, House sent another message:

**Probably happen again unless I get a hint.**

And Chase responded quickly with:

**No it won't.**

House would have stomped his foot in frustration, but the gesture would lose its effect with no witnesses. He messaged back:

**Spill, damn it.**

This time House didn't get an immediate response. He gave up on GameBoy after a few minutes, tried glancing through some journals, searched his desk for something to take his mind off of his pager. _Someone must have coded_, he thought hopefully, although he suspected that Chase was just ignoring him.

Finally, after more than an hour of aggravating silence, Chase's response came:

**Two displays this year. Think about it. And lay off the bloody pager.**

House leaned back in his chair and frowned. _OK, maybe this is progress. I accused Chase of having his one emotional display of the year when he yelled at me last week. So when else has he yelled at me? Right before I fired him? Shit, that can't be it; that was nothing._

It took almost twenty minutes before House straightened up in his chair and thought, _Fuck. He didn't yell. I could deal with yelling. Hugging? Not a clue. Getting around this is really gonna suck._

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_TBC, of course_

I must admit; I find bowling very inspiring. Almost as inspiring as reviews. Keep it up, guys!


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry! RL is killing me and my updates are slow. I still give you my guarantee - this will be completed!

WARNINGS: Major angst alert!! Also, your mom would wash out your mouth with soap for using some of the language here. I promise a lot more fun after this scene.

SUMMARY: Chase is getting it together, and House is making life more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not. And right now, it sucks warm sick through a straw.

DISCLAIMER: He doesn't belong to us, but the writers won't give us enough Chase, so we gotta do it ourselves.

Also, there are references to the prequel story, "All I Want For Christmas Is You".

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Part 11

"_It's been a bad day, please don't take a picture." R.E.M._

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By the time Chase finally made it home, he barely had the energy to toss his bag onto the kitchen table and collapse horizontally onto his sofa. He knew he needed to eat something, but he was just too damn tired after a 36 hour shift. It had been a rough one, too. The ICU had received four new patients courtesy of a three-car pileup on Route 1 during the fog last night, and despite everyone's best efforts, only two of the patients were still alive and neither of them would be leaving the ICU anytime soon, assuming they survived. Another victim hadn't even made it from the ER to the ICU. _Christ, a van full of kids and no one could be bothered to belt in._

He wanted to sleep, but he was still too keyed up, so he grabbed the remote for the stereo from the coffee table and started thinking about something to suit his mood. _Thank God for remotes and CD changers. Turned out that was money well-spent._ As he waited for music to start he remembered that he had loaded the player with retro stuff the last time he'd actually had a few minutes to listen. First up was The Ramones, and while "I Wanna Be Sedated" seemed like a reasonable sentiment, the raucous sound definitely didn't match his melancholy mood. R.E.M.? Better, but this was their early stuff, and it always drove him crazy that he couldn't quite make out the words. Ah, Kasey Chambers. For some reason Foreman had once grilled Chase on his musical tastes, and wouldn't that have gotten him ridiculed if everyone (…_House_…) knew he liked country music. Finally he settled on his Joni Mitchell CD. A woman he dated years ago had played Mitchell constantly and he had always been a sucker for a 'soprano and a piano'.

He settled back to let the sound just wash over him, but as he was trying to drift off, his attention was drawn back by the lyrics.

_Carey, get out your cane  
I'll put on my finest silver  
Oh, you're a mean old daddy, but I like you_

_Wonderful_, he thought. _House is following me everywhere. Just what I needed._ He shut off the music with the remote and rolled over to bury his face in the sofa cushions, trying to will the world to go away.

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He woke with a start at the rapping at the door. _Christ, what time is it_? he thought groggily. A quick check revealed it was just after midnight. _Who the fuck is bothering me at this hour?_

A muffled but all-too-familiar voice came through the door in answer. "Open up in there. Don't make me use my mad break-in skillz."

Chase groaned and scrubbed his hands across his face. _What did I do to deserve this? He has to know I was on a long shift._

"Go away, House," he finally called out. "This is exactly the wrong time to be here."

"What, you got a girl in there?" was the response.

"Yeah, right. It's late, I'm tired, and I don't want to talk to you."

"I get all that, but it's impooooortant. I need a consultation on a case."

"Bullshit. Go hire a team and leave me alone."

"You know, your neighbors probably don't appreciate all the noise you're making."

"_I'm_ making? Jesus, House, shut up."

"Actually, my first name is Gregory, but I see how you might get confused sometimes."

Chase shook his head, grimacing, and headed for the door. No way was he going to get rid of a House-on-a-mission, particularly if the mission was to annoy someone. He leaned his head on the door in resignation and waited.

"Chase, let me in or I really will do it myself."

"Say the magic word first."

"What is this, kindergarten?"

"You tell me. And I'm waiting."

"Geez, you drive a hard bargain. OK, pleeeeeeeeeeease, kind sir, may I come in?"

Chase quirked a tiny smile and unlocked the door. As House pushed his way past him, Chase muttered, "Made you say 'please'."

"Don't get used to it, oh former minion. The please fairy wants her bounty back."

Chase turned back to the sofa and threw himself down in the middle. "That doesn't make the least bit of sense, House."

"Well, it _is_ hard to keep up with my sharp wit. Only a select few even try." House plopped himself down right next to his quarry, who scooted over to one corner of the sofa for a little bit of personal space.

Chase let out a tired sigh. "Cut the crap, House. Why are you here?"

House looked around the room for a moment before responding in a more serious tone, "Hear you had a tough one."

"Yeah, I did. That's why I'd rather still be sleeping right now instead of talking to you."

House shifted uncomfortably for a moment. "I get that, but I thought we needed to settle a few things."

"Probably." Chase couldn't keep the exasperation out of his voice. "Although three days ago would have worked for me. Why now when you couldn't be bothered then? Did it take you this long to figure out what I was talking about?"

"No, it didn't, but at the time, I didn't know what to say. I still don't, really. But I think we need to have this out."

"Why? It's long over and I've moved on."

House scowled at Chase. "Well, obviously not, if you're still holding a grudge. I expect us to work together as colleagues, at the very least. I want us to…get along again."

"It's not likely, House. Particularly if you keep intruding where you're not wanted."

"Fair enough. So where _am _I wanted?"

"I really can't imagine. Although," Chase arched his eyebrows and smiled slightly, "I have, on occasion, imagined you in a coffin with a stake through your heart."

House looked thoughtful. "Interesting choice. So I'm a vampire in your imagination?"

"Well, you do have a knack for sucking the life out of people."

"Is that how you see me?"

"Pretty much. Dealing with you requires quite a bit of energy, which is exactly what I don't have right now."

"I'm hoping that will work in my favor. Anyway, I was in the mood to discuss… _things_…tonight, and that doesn't happen very often."

"No kidding." Chase settled back and closed his eyes. "Sooooo, discuss away, then."

"Takes two to discuss."

"No kidding. But this is your party, House. I'm willing to skip it, myself."

"You're still angry, though. Hasn't your therapist told you that repressed anger is bad for your health?"

"First of all, I don't have a therapist. Second, I _have_ no anger when you're not around. If you'd just leave me alone, I'd be fine, and we wouldn't have to have this awkward whatever-it-is you think you're here for."

House looked up at the ceiling. "I think…I'm here to confirm why you're angry, and attempt to grovel in what Wilson would call a socially appropriate fashion until you decide to be nice again."

"Nice?" Chase rolled his eyes. "I don't know that 'nice' was ever the word to describe my behavior around you."

"OK, agreeable, then. I would definitely describe you as 'agreeable' until recently." House nodded to himself.

"That's more accurate, I think. The problem is, I need something to agree _with_ before I can be agreeable."

House smirked but then affected a look of mock contrition. "How's this? I'm a bad, bad boss and I should be ashamed of myself for all the nasty things I've done to you."

Chase scowled at House in mild amusement. "I can definitely agree with _that_. The problem is, you _should_ be ashamed of yourself, but we both know you're not. So tell me, what things do you think you _should_ be ashamed of, if you were an ordinary mortal like the rest of us?"

"Weeell," House drawled, "Considering that we're starting from a faulty premise, I suppose a mere mortal wouldn't have fired you the way I did."

"That's a start." Chase settled back. "Go on."

House shook his head. "Is this leading up to the part where you expect me to apologize for all my transgressions?"

"Hardly," Chase smiled. "I've heard that if the earth stops rotating on its axis, we're all doomed."

"OK, as long as we've got that straight… I suppose a _nicer_ person wouldn't have called you a moron quite so often. Or thrown things at you. Or, uh, punched you out in the hospital corridor."

"Mmm," Chase nodded, looking at House intently. "Keep going."

"More, huh? Let's see. I shouldn't have…constantly humiliated you in front of your peers. Made you do extra clinic duty. Ridiculed your personal beliefs. Teased you about kissing a little girl. Made you talk to your father." House scowled. "I thought you were the one who wanted to go to bed, and the list is going to take hours if I get on a roll."

"True." Chase scowled. "Out of the list so far, getting fired totally sucked. So did getting punched, although we already worked that one out. The rest? Also sucked, but it went with the territory. You're very conveniently leaving out the biggies."

"Damn. Hoped you wouldn't notice. Alright then…, most people would not have faked brain cancer and upset their colleagues."

Chase leaned forward a bit. "You're finally on track. Keep going."

"What do you want me to say, Chase? It wasn't _nice_. I'm not a nice guy."

"Got that right. Remember _why_ you faked brain cancer?"

"What does it matter? I wanted to get into the pain relief study in Boston. No one here was supposed to know what was going on. It's not like I was _trying_ to upset people."

"It matters to me," Chase said softly. "And we both know the real reason you didn't tell anyone what you were up to."

House shrugged. "Well, if you'd all known from the beginning, you would have stopped me from joining the study."

"Damn straight we would have. Every last one of us. You were going to jeopardize a major medical study, which has the potential to help a lot of sick people, for your own gratification."

"It would have been fine. You guys are just spoilsports."

"I doubt many terminal cancer patients see pain relief as a _sport_."

"Look, I've been through this multiple times with Wilson. It wasn't a nice thing to do, I shouldn't have done it, yadda yadda; I get it."

"And you'd do it again if you had another chance, wouldn't you." Chase didn't make it a question.

House had the decency to squirm just a little. "Probably. It wasn't a bad plan. It would have been a _great_ plan if everyone had just minded their own business."

"But we didn't, did we? We had to actually go and care about you, silly gits that we are." Chase knew his voice was getting tight, but at this point, he didn't much care.

"I'm sorry that you were upset, Chase. What more do you want me to say?"

Chase sighed and shook his head. "Doesn't matter what I want you to say. I don't expect you to say anything at this point. But for the record? Being sorry I got upset is _not_ the same as being sorry you upset me. Notice the active verb."

"And I'll say it again. Upsetting you was not my intention."

"Tell me something, House." Chase put his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands. "Do you _ever_ consider the consequences of your actions for other people?"

"Occasionally. Mostly I expect other people to look out after themselves. Humans are hard-wired that way. Otherwise, why would everybody lie?"

"Well, sometimes they lie to protect other people and their feelings, but I think we've ruled that out as your motivation." He sat up and sighed. "This is really a pointless conversation, House. You don't have anything to tell me, and I don't know why you expect anything to change between us."

"I told you before; I want to take you out on a date and make it up to you."

Chase laughed without a hint of mirth in his voice. "Riiiight. I made the mistake of caring about you and got my teeth kicked in. Now you want me to forget that, start to care about you again, and then what? Sorry. Good dentistry is expensive in this country."

"It's not going to be like that," House said in a soft voice that surprised Chase a bit.

"And why wouldn't it? You've already told me you don't worry about other people's feelings, and you've _shown_ me you don't care about mine." Chase knew his voice was rising, but at this point, he was too damn tired to censor himself. Maybe if he laid it out for House, the bastard would slink off into the night and leave him alone for good.

"Look, House, last Christmas you told me you were interested in a more…personal relationship with me. It was a bad idea and I told you so. Then I found out you were 'dying', and it…bothered me more than it should've." The words were starting to come out in a rush. "You were going to fly off to Boston, and we might never see you again, and I wanted…I mean, I had told you that I cared about you but you didn't know how much, and I went to your office and tried to hug you and you blew me off and you KNEW, you bastard!" Chase was out of breath and feeling a little panicky by now.

House, on the other hand, just looked puzzled. "_What_ did I know? I knew you'd been crying, and you were ready to start back up on my shoulder. I _hate_ waterspots on my shoulder."

"Yeah, well, thank God you were a jerk about it, or I would have humiliated myself a lot worse."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You were the one who turned it into a joke, House." Chase took a deep breath. "I was serious."

"Wait a minute," House asked with a look of wonderment on his face. "As I recall, I told you not to start anything you couldn't finish. Are you saying that because I was dying you would have given me a pity-fuck?"

Chase made a sour face; it was time for some damage control. "No, that's _not_ what I meant. First of all, I doubt it would have gone that far, and it wouldn't…"

House was too excited to let him finish his sentence. "Yeah, but at the time, you would have allowed me to, oh, maybe, grab your ass?"

Chase felt pretty sure this conversation wasn't going to end well, but hell, he was already in _this_ far. He found himself staring at a fascinating crack in the far wall. "Maybe, yeah."

He couldn't see House without turning his head, but he felt the older man sit up straighter and bounce a little, and there was no mistaking the note of triumph in House's voice.

"See, now that's the cool part! Cuddy gave me a hug and let me grab _her_ ass. You gave me a hug and I _could_ have grabbed your ass. Maybe I should fake dying more often!"

"HOUSE!!" Chase swung around and gaped at House in horror. He thought there was a decent chance he might throw up on the spot. "Jesus CHRIST, House! I actually try to say something honest and… What the FUCK is WRONG with you?"

From the way House was looking at him without making eye contact, Chase briefly wondered if House might actually realize he'd gone way too far with that last remark. "God_damn_ it, House! That's all any of this means to you, isn't it? A great big game of grab-ass?! Well, _fine_ then." He ground out the words with enough venom to actually make House look uncomfortable. Chase stood up, turned his back to House and bent over slightly. "There! Go ahead! Grab my ass! That's what you really want, so I'll let you to do it and get it out of your system. Grab away! Believe me, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

Chase stood there but nothing happened. Then House muttered, "I'm not going to grab your ass like this."

Chase turned his head to glare back at House. This was one of the rare times when he knew he benefited from being the son of Rowan Chase. From his father's example, by God, he knew how to glare, and he also knew how to sound furious without raising his voice. "Oh, yes you are! You're going to grope me, and when you're finished, I'm going to turn back around and hit you. Then you can go tell everyone who'll listen that I let you grab my ass, and I'll tell them that you tried to grab my ass and I clobbered you. See, this way we both win, and since your dream will finally be fulfilled, you can get the FUCK out of my life and go harass someone else!"

He turned back around and stood, waiting. Still nothing. Then House said, in a tight voice, "Stop it, Chase. I'm not going to grab your ass."

"Stop _what_? I'm just standing here."

"Just…sit down, OK?"

Chase could almost imagine that there was a note of pleading in House's voice. He was starting to come down from his adrenaline high, and it wasn't a good feeling. He crossed his arms to keep his hands from shaking and tried to steady his breathing, wondering what House would do if Chase broke into tears, which was feeling like a definite possibility. _No matter how sure you are that you can't embarrass yourself any further, there's always the possibility of a new low ahead._ He really didn't trust himself to turn around and look at House. He hoped he could trust his voice.

"No, it's _not_ OK, House," he finally said.

There was a long silence. "I know," House finally answered. "And I'm…sorry."

Chase let out a jerky breath that wanted to be a laugh but fell far short of its goal. "As amazing as it is to hear you say that, House, I'm willing to bet you still don't even know what you're sorry _for_." He paused, still not daring to turn around. Starting toward the door, he said, "Look, I need some space right now. You probably don't want to wait around for me to come back."

"Do you need me to leave?" House asked, sounding serious for once.

Chase stopped in the doorway and then shrugged.

"Good," House said. "Then I'll wait."

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TBC, unless I want to die horribly at the hands of my readers

I do have readers, don't I? Let me know!


	12. Chapter 12

SUMMARY: Chase is getting it together, and House is making life _SO_ much more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: If TPTB are gonna throw Chase out with the trash, I've gonna pick him up and take him home, whether he belongs to me or not. So there. And we'll go bowling and braid each other's hair - it'll be fun!

...

Part 12

"_I took the prize last night for complicated mess..." R.E.M._

...

It was almost 4 a.m. before Chase finally returned home. He had walked for hours, through neighborhoods he didn't even recognize. _Can't believe I wasn't mugged at some point._ The lights were out in his apartment, although the door was unlocked, the way he left it. _Dear God, let House be gone so I can get some sleep._

He switched on the light and remembered that God didn't seem to answer his prayers much lately. House was sprawled on the sofa, shoes off and wrapped up in a comforter that used to be at the foot of Chase's bed. _I don't need this,_ Chase thought wearily as House threw his arm over his eyes and squinted at Chase.

"About time you finally wandered home," House growled. "I thought I might have to send out a search party."

"I told you to leave, House."

"And I told you I'd wait."

"Well, you shouldn't have. I'm going to bed now and get some sleep. Despite the evidence, you do know your way out, don't you?"

House leaned back onto the pillow he'd also found on Chase's bed. "Nah, I'm nice and comfy right here."

"Fine, suit yourself. I'm going to bed."

House affected a meant-to-be-comical look of eagerness that _would_ have been comical if Chase had been in a better mood.

"Sod off, House. Save it for someone who cares. Do I need to lock my bedroom door?"

House looked vaguely amused. "I'm not going to rape you in your sleep, if that's what you're asking."

"Damn right you're not. Good night, House. And really, you're welcome to take off anytime."

With that, Chase headed down the hall. House heard a door slam, and the distinct sound of a lock being turned.

...

When Chase finally resigned himself to getting up after only three hours of restless sleep, he wasn't feeling optimistic about what he would find in his living room. It was quiet out there, but he hadn't heard the front door either. _Thank God I don't have to work today. I wouldn't be good for much of anything anyway._

He threw on some clothes and took a deep breath before unlocking the door and venturing out. Sure enough, there was House, sitting on the sofa reading one of Chase's medical journals.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty." House swung his head around to look at Chase. "OK, maybe not so beautiful at the moment. Luckily you've got plenty to spare."

"Stuff it, House. You're the one who decided to settle in and ruin my sleep. Aren't you on shift today?"

"Yep, but who's going to miss me?"

Chase smiled slightly. "I should think Cuddy, for one."

"Then she'll just have to find another devilishly handsome guy to drool over for the day."

"Yeah, we've all seen how badly she wants you. Somehow I suspect she'll muddle through this crisis."

Just then, the doorbell rang. Chase frowned and went to answer it. He found a teenager holding up a large paper sack. "Yes?"

"Good morning," the kid said with annoying cheer. "That'll be twelve dollars even."

Chase turned around with a scowl. "House, what is this?"

"Take a whiff; it's our morning coffee and bagels. Pay the nice man, will you?"

Chase growled in House's direction and found some cash in the kitchen to ransom breakfast. He set the bag down on the coffee table and flopped into a recliner next to the sofa, glaring at House.

House dove right into the bag, pulling out two large cups of coffee with the logo of the best coffeehouse and bakery on this side of town. He handed one to Chase silently.

Chase had to admit to himself that it smelled good. He opened the cup and took a tentative sip. It _was_ good. In the meantime House was pulling fresh bagels out of the bag and onto the coffee table, along with little containers of cream cheese; probably enough for five people.

Chase grabbed an onion bagel and took a bite. _Yep, it's the real thing_. "OK, House. How did you pull this off? The Coffee Hound doesn't make house calls."

"They do if your name is House."

"Bullshit," Chase snorted.

"Not for breakfast, thank you. Are you really not familiar with personal delivery service? You call them up and tell them what sort of carry-out you want and they bring it to you. It's like magic!"

"Well, at least I'm getting what I paid for."

"C'mon, Chase. You didn't want me in your kitchen trying to make coffee, did you?"

"No, I tried your coffee once, years ago. Unless you're taken a class since then, I'll pass."

"Exactly. I knew you liked French roast from this place, so I ordered and voilá! Coffee you can drink."

Chase stopped sipping for a moment and looked at House thoughtfully. "You actually remembered what coffee I liked?"

"Chalk it up to my powers of observation. I sometimes use them for good, not evil."

"I guess. So…thank you for thinking of it. Although you could have considered paying for it too."

"I did, but you saw how that turned out."

Chase settled back with his coffee in one hand and his bagel in the other. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. _He's actually trying to be nice. I guess he decided to try a new tactic._

Since there was no way to talk with a mouth full of bagel, they continued in silence. Chase wasn't much of a breakfast person, so he only managed one bagel to House's three. Chase always wondered how House managed to pack it in and stay thin. _After all, it's not like he can jog it off._

Finally House settled back too with the remainder of his coffee. "I take it that you're in a better mood this morning, seeing as how you didn't pour your scalding hot coffee in my lap. I asked for it extra hot just for you."

Chase managed a weak smile. "Crossed my mind but I can't afford the lawsuit. You deserve it, though."

"So you say. I'm a little confused, though. Not to bring up a delicate topic, but I'm still not clear on whether you really want me to grab your ass or not."

"Not. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

House shook his head. "Not good enough. You've given me a puzzle and there are too many pieces missing. I can't let it go until I've finished the picture."

"Yeah, well, I would think you'd learned more than enough from going through my things while I was gone."

"Hey, I needed a blanket. And a pillow. And then, since I was in there…"

"Right. You had to check out my underwear drawer, no doubt."

"Of course. I don't know whether to be disappointed or relieved that you don't have any red thongs."

"Next time, I'll tuck one away just for you."

"Oh, so you're conceding we'll have a next time."

"I'm not conceding anything, House. Just playing along."

"And now this conversational diversion has run its course. So what's going on in that addled brain of yours?"

"_I'm_ addled? I seem to be doing fine when you're not bothering me."

"Exactly my point. What is it about me bothering you that bothers you?"

Chase closed his eyes and sighed. _Maybe if I beat him with his own cane_… "You don't have the right, House." He opened his eyes and looked straight at House. "I'm not your subordinate anymore and you pretty much ruined any chance we had of being friends."

"Now see, that's what I'm unclear about. How exactly did I do that?"

Chase shook his head. "Pick just about anything you're done in the past year."

"Didn't we go over this earlier? I shouldn't have hit you, fired you, insulted you, whatever. That's not what this is about, is it?"

"Why not? Those will do."

"Nuh uh. Not good enough. We were having a reasonably civil conversation until the whole 'brain-cancer-oops-maybe-not' business came up. That seems to be the sticking point. You actually hugged me when you thought I was dying. You hinted that you might have been willing to do more. I'm guessing that's the part you need to get off your chest."

"I don't_ need_ to do anything, House. I think I said enough last night."

"And _that_ was the addled part. Spell it out in plain English, and not that New Zealand patois."

Chase grimaced. "Christ, House. Just go back to calling me British, OK?"

"Hell, I'll even call you Australian if you drop all that stiff upper lip shit."

_He wants me to drop my defenses while he keeps his_, thought Chase wearily. _I already know how well that will work out. And I really _am_ addled and I'm going to do it again. Bloody idiot._

"I did something I don't do very often, House. I reached out. And you shoved me away. You made me care and then it all turned out to be a lie. That pretty much settled the matter for me."

"Oh," House frowned. The room fell silent.

Finally, Chase said softly, "I told you once before; it's easier not to care. I can't put it any plainer than that, House. You have your answer, so you might as well take off."

House shook his head. "I'm not willing to leave it at that. I refuse to believe everything between us is ruined. We just need a plan of treatment."

Chase had to laugh a little at that. "Well, whatever you come up with is your worry. I think I've bared enough of my soul in the past twelve hours to last me a long time."

"Fair enough." House settled back and looked thoughtful for a few minutes while Chase finished his coffee.

"Soooooo," House drawled. "Are things so bad between us that you can't even work with me?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'work with you'," Chase said evenly.

House smiled. "I do have a lot of ideas in that area, but at the moment, I'm proposing that you become a Diagnostics consultant. I take it you _might_ be willing to work with me professionally?"

Chase leaned back and closed his eyes, pausing for a few moments. He had thought about this before. He had truly loved his time working in Diagnostics. Not that every minute was a joy; hell, a lot of it sucked. But the brainstorming, the opportunities to solve real mysteries? Those were gold and they made all the indignities of the job worthwhile.

No, the bigger question in Chase's mind was, could he work with _House_ again? A few days ago, he would have said no; it wouldn't be worth the emotional roller coaster. Now, though…

He realized that he felt better…lighter. Maybe he should be feeling embarrassed for revealing so much of himself to House, but instead, he felt oddly peaceful. He had bottled up the anger and hurt, and now it was all out there. He had said what he needed to say, out loud, to House himself, and now House could deal with it as he liked.

He leaned forward and gave House a steady gaze. "I'm willing to consider the offer. I like diagnostics, House. I like the challenges. It wasn't my idea to leave your department in the first place, was it?"

"Well, no. So you should be happy for the chance to come back."

"I don't have any interest in 'coming back', if that's what you actually want." Chase shook his head with a frown. "A lot of things have changed. You're the one who told me I've learned all I can from you. Maybe you're even right about that, although I doubt it. I suppose I _might_ be able to tolerate working with you as a _colleague_, if that's what you have in mind. But things aren't going to be the same as they were between us."

House grinned. "That's fine. I don't want things to be the same; I have something much better in mind."

Chase rolled his eyes. "Don't push your luck, House. You're on _very_ shaky ground as it is. What I meant was, I've noticed you no longer have any scut-puppies to do your dirty work for you. Since you fired me, obviously you no longer value my services in that area. That's good, because you can't _have_ my services in that area. If I work with you on cases? No lab work, no break-ins."

"Agreed. Will you help me find some new scut-puppies? I hate that kinda stuff."

"I will help you find scut-puppies. And _I_ will be the one to talk to my department head, because I like my job in the ICU too. You work out a tentative arrangement with Cuddy and I'll take it from there."

House grinned. "So we're friends, then?"

"Not even close, House. We're going to try being colleagues," Chase replied. "We'll see if _that_ works out."

"Oh, it'll work out. You'll see," House said without losing his grin.

_Be afraid,_ Chase thought. _Be very afraid._ _This is definitely going to be…interesting._

...

...

Comments are love, and I could use some right now.

And yes, there's plenty more to come, and much lighter too!


	13. Chapter 13

SUMMARY: Chase is getting it together, and House is making life _SO_ much more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: Send me some money and I'll have something to disclaim for.

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Part 13

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_That afternoon_

Wilson had retreated to his office to avoid Cuddy's wrath. House never showed up for his clinic hours this morning and she was sure that Wilson must know where he was. Wilson had no idea.

He should have known he wasn't going to get more than a few minutes to catch up on his case notes, and he didn't. House burst into Wilson's office with an annoyingly self-satisfied grin and plopped down on a convenient chair. _Hope Cuddy didn't see him. Looks like he slept in his clothes, too._ Then a thought crossed his mind, but he suppressed it as quickly as he could. _There's no way… Chase wouldn't..._

Although he would never say it to either of them, Wilson wondered if House and Chase might actually be a good match. After all, Chase was one of the few people besides Wilson who was willing to tolerate some of House's more obnoxious behavior, and in the past had even found it amusing. Wilson suspected that at some level, at least, Chase wanted to be part of House's miniscule inner circle; whether that would lead to anything more was anyone's guess at this point. However, House had never lacked the ability to alienate just about everyone in his path, and he had been doing his best the past few months to drive Chase off the way he had everyone else over the years. Given Chase's hostility toward House recently, Wilson did not want to get stuck cleaning up the mess if House pushed the relationship issue too hard.

Luckily House was too pleased with himself to notice his friend's momentary discomfort. "He wants to work with me, Wilson. I've almost landed him."

Wilson tried not to look relieved. "You're quite impressed with yourself right now, aren't you."

"Who wouldn't be?"

Wilson closed the folder he was working on and leaned back. "Soooo, does he _want_ to work with you, or is he _willing_ to work with you?"

"Six of one, and whatever other stupid clichés apply. He's _going_ to work with me."

"Well, I suppose I should congratulate you and offer my best wishes to Chase, then."

"Hey," House scowled, "we're not getting married. I ain't the marryin' kind."

"No, you're not, but I think the sentiment applies. You really are getting the better end of the deal here."

"You're being meeeean to me," House sing-songed.

"Like that would bother you," Wilson chuckled. "Admit it; you'll be taking advantage of Chase's diagnostic talents and he'll be stuck working with you."

"Shhh, don't tell him that. It will come as quite the surprise when he finds out."

"Uh huh. You want to work with Chase again because he's a total moron."

"Close enough. I need a case. Got any cases for me?"

Wilson sighed. "If I did, you'd know about it already."

House rose and headed for the door. "I'm off to find a case then."

"Good luck with that," Wilson called after him. _Good luck to Chase, too_, he thought.

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Chase wasn't the least bit surprised to see a case folder on his desk the next day. What did surprise him was the fact that it was such a no-brainer. _Either he has no faith in me or he was in a damn big hurry to come up with something._

He stuck a big Post-it note on the first page of the file and dropped it into the transport bin.

House wasn't the least bit surprised to see the folder back so soon. He opened it and smiled as he read Chase's diagnostic note:

_Duh. C_

_For once we agree right from the beginning_, House thought. _Promising._

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Chase was just tucking into his cafeteria sandwich when House appeared next to his table and sat down across the table.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Since you're already seated, I don't see that I have much choice."

"Nope," House beamed as he reached over and grabbed a handful of Chase's chips.

Chase shook his head. "Oh, please, help yourself, House. I wouldn't have bought them if I actually wanted to eat them."

"That's the way I figure it. Wilson does that a lot too."

"I've noticed. Pardon me if I don't put down my sandwich, but I really am hungry. I'm also on a short break, so if you have anything to say, get on with it. And if it's a case, it better be more interesting than the last one. You could actually _wait_ until you have something interesting, you know. Not…"

"No time like the present, get the momentum going, that sort of thing…" House interrupted.

"NOT," Chase continued, "jump in before my _real_ boss gives me the go-ahead to work on a case with you."

House gave him the 'you moron' face. "Think how little would get done if we all waited for permission to do what we want."

Chase replied with his 'you're being an arsehole' face. "Maybe you never noticed, House, but there's a big difference between asking permission and making arrangements. Someone might actually need an intensivist while I'm off playing doctor with you."

"You know, that could be taken a couple of ways. Do you like to play Doctor? 'Cause I'm not dressing up like a nurse. Just saying."

"Oh God," Chase moaned as he grabbed his dishes and headed off. "The hospital storeroom doesn't have enough bleach to remove that image from my brain."

House grinned. "Made you think about it. My work here is done."

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_Two days later…_

House had decided that he needed to find a decent case this time. None were forthcoming, though, and he was getting impatient. _Hell, it's worth a shot_, he thought as he pulled out his pager. He figured he'd keep it simple:

_Dinner?_

Chase's response took twenty minutes:

_Case?_

House smiled. The game was afoot.

_Dinner._

_ Case._

_ I want dinner first._

_ I want world peace. Deal with it_.

_Damn, _House frowned._ I really need a case._

Chase was rather surprised _not_ to hear from House for a few days. Then one evening he headed back to his office at the end of a long shift and found another folder on his desk. A Post-it on the first page simply said,

_You should find this more to your liking. H_

Chase rolled his eyes. _This had better not be a cross-dressing sociopath._ He sat down to read through the notes. _Of course, he already tried that one on me. He's not likely to repeat himself_.

It only took a couple of pages to determine that this could be the real thing: a diagnostic mystery.

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Another update coming real soon!


	14. Chapter 14

WARNINGS: OK, I admit it. I went totally nerd-shit on the diagnostic stuff. Sadly, it's more accurate than some of the cases they have on the show. I'd be their medical advisor for free if I got to meet HL and JS. Just sayin'.  
NOTES: Spoilers for Human Error, and everything that leads up to that. Someday I might even incorporate something from Season 4, but not today.  
SUMMARY: Chase is doing fine on his own, and House is making life more complicated, whether Chase likes it or not.

DISCLAIMER: The writers won't give me any Chase, so I gotta do it myself. At least David Shore now has the decency to admit JS got screwed over last season.

Oh, and there really isn't a space in "NewYork-Presbyterian". Beats me why not.

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Part 14

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After going over the file twice to make sure he wasn't missing anything, Chase headed down to the Diagnostics department. Even though it was one in the morning, he expected to find House waiting. From reading the case notes, he knew that the patient had been flown in that afternoon from New Mexico, which was a bit far afield from their usual referrals. Much more intriguing was the fact that House had apparently sought out the case and arranged the referral himself. _Since when has House been that eager for new patients? I can't believe he would have done this just for my benefit._

Sure enough, House was sitting at the conference table, drumming his fingers in impatience. As soon as Chase entered, House wordlessly tossed him a marker. Chase smiled and turned to the whiteboard to list symptoms.

_Headache_

_Nausea, vomiting _

_Intermittent fever_

_Periorbital pain_

_Loss of vision_

_Generalized seizures_

_Weil-Felix +_

After a moment he added the notes:

_Two months duration_

_Central America_

"So," Chase said as he capped the marker and surveyed the board thoughtfully, "He presented as meningitis, but the diagnostic tests are negative and the symptoms haven't resolved. He arrived in the U.S. from Guatemala a month before the symptoms began. They ran tests for the usual tropical diseases, all negative. He had a positive Weil-Felix test but the serology was negative for rickettsia. Probably worth running a PCR just to be sure, although the symptoms aren't right. They did what looks like a piss-poor head x-ray six weeks ago and didn't note any pathology, although on these films it's hard to tell anything except that he doesn't have any large masses. We need to run a head CT and make sure he doesn't have Swiss cheese in there."

He turned back to House, tapping the marker on his palm. "Anything to add?"

House tipped his chair back with a rather self-satisfied expression. "Actually, no. You hit the main symptoms and I agree about the CT. Any other tests you recommend?"

Chase scowled in response. "Are we working together here, or am I playing the role of a trained diagnostic chimp? Since when do you have nothing to contribute to a diagnosis?"

"Fair enough," House nodded. "They ran the obvious tests, but then we're talking about an illegal immigrant with no insurance, so he didn't exactly get the A team. At least now he has an A-plus-plus team. We should rerun all of the tests properly."

"I concur. The sporadic fever and recurrence of the symptoms point away from the obvious diagnosis of meningitis, but it makes me suspicious that there's some sort of infectious process involved."

"Possibly. His blood and spinal fluid were clean that last time they were checked, but that could have changed. Could it be…" House paused for melodramatic effect, "_autoimmune_?"

Chase raised his eyebrows. "Feeling nostalgic, are we? Because if you are, allow me to suggest that the problem is neurological."

House chuckled. "Even Foreman has to be right sometimes."

"Well," Chase tossed the marker onto the table, "I don't think we can take this any further without test results, so give me a page when they're available."

"Aren't you going to…"

"No, I'm not, House. I'm going home. Call me when you have some new information."

"Hmmph," House replied. "So much for dedication to patient care."

"Good night, House," Chase smiled to himself as he walked out.

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Chase was pleasantly surprised when House didn't bother him again for two days. _He's actually waiting for the test results. Guess he's on good behavior for the moment._ When the page came, he handed off his patients as soon as decently possible and headed for Diagnostics. When he arrived, House was once again sitting at the conference table.

House slid a new folder across the table to Chase. "You were wrong about the Swiss cheese."

"Oh?" Chase replied as he looked through the lab data.

"Yeah, it's more like _cottage_ cheese."

Chase frowned as he walked to the viewer. House was right; the patient's brains were riddled with small masses. _Shit_, he thought. _This guy's in big trouble._ He turned back to House. "Have you seen something like this before?"

House shrugged. "Might just be metastases from a tumor we haven't looked for yet."

Chase turned back to the films. "I don't think so. These masses scan more like cysts than solid tumors, but the margins are diffuse, which doesn't fit. We should do a full-body scan to rule out cancer, but I'm still thinking infection."

"Odd infection, with no antibodies to anything the lab could think of in the blood or spinal fluid. If his immune system is that weak, he's got bigger problems than brain masses."

Chase flopped into a chair. "True, but I still think infection. The pattern of masses and lack of antibodies seem to rule out any common Central American parasites I can think of. It could be a virus, but all the tests for meningitis and encephalitis are negative. Maybe he's got a type that no one has seen before, but if so, we probably won't be able to treat it at this advanced stage. Maybe a disseminated fungal infection, although they already tested for histoplasmosis and the other likely suspects. I'm going to vote for that or a bacterial infection."

"Interesting," House replied. "Totally unsupported by the tests, but interesting."

Chase frowned. "In any case, we need to crack his skull and see the masses up close. That'll give us some tissue to work with. Maybe we can excise the ones encroaching on his optic nerves and salvage some of his vision, at least."

House nodded. "Agreed. I'm still leaning toward some sort of neoplastic process, so I'll run this afternoon's MRI results by Wilson and see if he can find anything. We'll schedule surgery for tomorrow morning."

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House stood in the gallery and observed the surgical procedure with a smile. Chase had decided to scrub in and check out the lesions himself. _I've got Chase's attention. Good case,_ he thought. _Not for the patient, of course._ The way everyone at the head of the table was leaning in suggested that they had found something significant.

"The masses are firm but there's no vascular infiltration," Chase's voice came over the loudspeaker. "It could be a disseminated lymphoma, which doesn't seem likely, or maybe even astrogliosis. We'll have to wait for the histology."

That was just fine with House. He'd never admit to it, but it felt good to have a team again. Especially _this_ team of one.

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Chase was back in the ICU when he got House's page.

_Granuloma._

He couldn't leave immediately, so he paged back:

_Organisms?_

_Nope._

_Gliosis?_

_Multinucleated giant cells._

_Infection!!_

_With what??_

_??_

_Also, new symptom. Go examine. Order morphine._

_That was sneaky_, Chase thought. _He knows I'll actually go if the patient needs painkillers._

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"Well," Chase said as entered House's office, "Thanks for sharing, House. That certainly made my day."

House gave him that snarky smile that sometimes made Chase want to smack him with his own cane. "Thought you'd like it."

"Right. What guy _wouldn't _enjoy examining someone in excruciating pain from swollen, inflamed testicles? It hurt just looking at him."

"No kidding. So, differential for multiple brain granulomas and giant purple balls?"

Chase sat down and frowned. "Wegener's and Churg-Strauss don't fit. I _was_ thinking maybe granulomatous amebic encephalitis before the new symptom arrived. Then I remembered the positive Weil-Felix test…"

House broke in. "You think rickettsial infection fits?"

"No, I don't," Chase replied, "So I asked the patient about his diet when I was in there. Queso fresco was a major component back in Guatemala. I'm thinking neurobrucellosis."

House leaned forward with a thoughtful expression. "Central America and raw dairy products fit. There were no serum or spinal fluid antibodies to _Brucella_, though. The tissue samples showed no signs of gram-negative bacteria either."

"True," Chase nodded. "But the infection could be attenuated at the moment, and it's unusual but not impossible that there are no measurable antibody titers."

"I like it," House said. "They're already running cultures on the tissue, so that could confirm the diagnosis."

"Too slow. I suggest we run a sample through PCR to confirm as soon as possible. His brain could wait a few days, but not his testicles. Maybe we could start him on antibiotics now? I checked the regimen; a combination of rifampin, doxycycline, and IV gentamicin. There shouldn't be any permanent harm if they turn out to be unnecessary."

House nodded. "If it was me, I'd definitely welcome the side effects if they came with a human-sized set of balls. I say go ahead."

"Your patient, your orders," Chase said as he rose with a smile. "For my part, I've already located PCR primers at NewYork-Presbyterian. They'll be here by morning."

"Good thinking," House smiled. "I taught you well."

"That must be it," Chase said as he headed off to the ICU. "Hold that thought until we have a confirmed diagnosis."

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The next afternoon, Chase was checking patient charts when House appeared at the office door with an ominous expression. He sat across the desk from Chase and folded his arms.

"Well?" Chase responded. "Are we back to the beginning?"

"No, it's neurobrucellosis. We're sending a sample out for species identification, but they all respond the same treatment, so this case is pretty much closed."

Chase leaned back with an expression of relief. "Good. So why the glare?"

"You're an _idiot_."

"Because I got the diagnosis right? Fascinating logic."

"No, you're an idiot because you were _capable_ of getting it right and yet you persist in throwing your skills away in the ICU."

"Uh huh," Chase nodded. "And dare I ask what your recommendation is for my career pathway?"

"Come back to Diagnostics. It's where you belong."

"You _fired_ me from Diagnostics, remember? Told me I had nothing more to learn there, if I recall."

"I was talking about the fellowship then. Now I'm talking colleague, team supervisor, another opportunity to work side-by-side with the master."

"I see," Chase smiled. "You know, I rather like it here in Intensive Care. Nobody argues or tosses insults when a patient flatlines. You just do your job and save a life, right on the spot."

"Boring. They don't need you to save lives. They'd manage quite nicely without you."

"Probably, but I can't say that I'm all that excited about the notion of coming back to Diagnostics full-time." Chase found himself relaxing in House's presence for the first time since he'd lost his Fellowship.

"C'mon, admit it, you miss the mystery, the drama…" House threw his arms wide. "The spectacle, the romance, all in Technicolor and Dolby Digital."

Chase grinned. "I see. We're doing a movie metaphor now."

"Yes! And the part of the brilliant yet beautiful Doctor Robert Chase will be played by…drum roll, please…Zac Efron!"

Chase shook his head in mock disgust. "Alright, then I get to cast the part of Doctor Gregory House. Let's see. Brilliant, drug-addled sociopath. Obnoxious yet vaguely amusing at times. I have to go with…Dennis Hopper."

House positively beamed. "Excellent. I like it. Gotta get me a real hog to ride, though. So, who do you think for Cuddy? Someone with ginormous twins, of course. Pamela Anderson is no longer nubile enough to do our fearless leader justice. Maybe Carmen Electra in a push-up bra?"

"I'm not going there," Chase replied with a small smile. "And I can't believe you passed up the chance to cast Neil Patrick Harris as me, after all the Doogie jokes."

"Not young or pretty enough," House scowled, then broke out into a grin. "He'd make a killer Wilson, though. Doogie, all growed up."

"You know, that really works. One more and I need to get back to work. We'll want a younger Louise Fletcher for your archnemesis Nurse Brenda."

"Perfect! So how about dinner?"

Chase snapped his head back as far as it would go. "Excuse me? I think I just got conversational whiplash."

"I asked you out. Big surprise," House said with a barely disguised look of reproach.

"Why are you doing this, House? You're not even gay."

"Labels, labels. What makes you think I'm not of the homosexual persuasion?"

"Well, that thoroughly disgusting screensaver on your office computer, for one thing. I don't even know what those two naked women are doing, but it's not sanitary. Also, the hookers you rave about constantly. Oh, and then there's Stacy? Love of your life, object of romantic pursuit, _et cetera, et cetera_?

"Yeah, there is Stacy. However, this all goes to show that I am neither gay nor straight. I'm polymorphously perverse."

"Well, you're perverse, that's always been obvious." Chase paused. "Although, I guess that diagnosis _would_ fit in with your arrested emotional development."

"Bucking for a psychiatry fellowship next?"

"No, working for _you_ for three years taught me everything I need to know about aberrant behavior."

"When have I ever…? Oh, that's right, we're talking about me. Anyway, I'm not being perverse right now. I want us to have, for lack of a better word, a relationship. Close up and personal."

Chase laughed without sounding very amused. "That's probably the very definition of 'perverse'. We've just started back on speaking terms, and we're not really friends yet. I don't see anything...social happening before I even _like_ you again."

_He said 'yet',_ House thought. _We're making progress here._

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TBC, very soon, especially if I get reviews! ;-D

**A/N: **In Freudian theory, the term "polymorphously perverse" refers to a normal developmental phase where very young children find sexual gratification in virtually everything, including body parts and objects of 'affection' that society may not consider appropriate. Most, but not all, people grow out of these multi-directional urges. It's more complicated than this, of course, but you get the idea. And despite what a previous version of Wikipedia said, this expression was _not_ invented by Woody Allen. He just uses it a lot.


	15. Chapter 15

SUMMARY: House is starting to make his move. Poor Chase.

DISCLAIMER: I wish.

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Part 15

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House charged into Wilson's office like a man on a mission. "Now he wants to be friends! It's all coming together."

Wilson patiently put down the phone. "By 'he', I presume you mean Chase. What makes you think he wants to be friends, exactly?"

"Well, the fact that he _told_ me was my first clue, duh," House said scornfully.

"Chase told you that directly? Or is that your interpretation of something else that he said?"

"That's pretty much what he said."

Wilson couldn't help letting out a little snort. "'Pretty much' is _not_ the same as 'exactly', House. What did he say, _exactly_?"

House gave him a pointed frown. "If you must know, he said that we weren't friends YET. That means he's interested."

"Uh huh," Wilson nodded. "Clearly he's dying for it."

"Hey, he wants it. He already told me I could grab his ass," House exclaimed with mock indignation.

Wilson had to laugh at that. "Gee, that sounds exactly like Chase. I'm guessing that's another 'pretty much' interpretation on your part."

"Well, there might have been more to the conversation than _just_ ass-grabbing," House said.

"Uh huh." Wilson leaned back. "So what's next?"

House took on a pensive look. "I'm not sure. You're good at this kind of thing. How do I make friends with him, fast?"

"This is going to be tough, House. Friendship calls for things like communication, honesty, respect. Not your strong suits."

"C'mon, Wilson. You and I are friends."

"Yes, we are, House. And how long did that take?"

"Ouch. You have a point there. I can't wait that long to get some action. How can I jumpstart the process?"

"It would help if you_ consistently_ tried communication, honesty…"

"Damn. This would be a lot simpler if Chase was easy."

Wilson smiled. "Since when have you been attracted to anything _easy_? Face it; if you could read him like a book, you wouldn't be interested."

"True."

"House, forget about sex for a moment. Crazy, I know, but bear with me. Do you actually _want_ to be friends with him, or is it just a means to an end? You and I are friends and we've never had sex, despite what everyone seems to think. Would you want to be friends with Chase even if you were never going to have sex with him?"

House actually looked thoughtful for a moment. "Let's see. Leave out the ass, the hair… Down to the mind here. Intelligent, reasonable sense of humor, devious… I think that could work. Don't know what I'd do with _two_ friends, though. Wouldn't you be jealous, having to share me?"

"Gee," Wilson said sarcastically. "Sharing all those interruptions all day long. Someone else to buy you lunch. As you so eloquently put it, I think that could work."

"So how are we going to set this up?"

"Well, first of all, stop referring to this as a set-up. Second, there is no 'we' here; you're on your own. So why don't you try this? Talk to him…"

"I'm already talking to him."

"Try talking to him _without _some of the attitude. I know it's a stretch, but it's possible, even for you. He doesn't trust you. He _can't _trust you. If his past experiences are any indication, he can expect to get sucked in, manipulated into doing or saying something to make himself vulnerable, and then ridiculed. Why should he set himself up for more of that?"

Wilson then paused as House looked at him incredulously. "House, I can't believe you just forced me to sound like a two-bit pseudo-psychologist on a daytime talk show."

"Frankly, I can't either. Do you think that plan would work?"

Wilson was finding this beyond exasperating. "House, this isn't supposed to be a _plan_. This is a _relationship_ we're talking about. You wanted Chase to find another job so the two of you could interact more as equals. Now you want to think of him as some sort of conquest. Stop planning a military campaign and start treating Chase like an equal. At this point I doubt he'd be willing to settle for anything less than that."

"That sounds a lot more complicated than formulating a plan. Besides, if I act nice to him, he'll _really_ be suspicious."

"Look, you don't have to lose your sense of humor. Chase _likes_ going back and forth with you, and you're both good at it. But you can't use the verbal sparring to push him away at the same time you're telling him you want to get closer. He's too smart for that."

"I'm not good at that touchy-feely stuff. If I was, I'd probably have made a play for Cameron."

"And I'm not telling you to go soft and squishy on him. That would scare him off faster than anything else you could try. Try making your actions match your words. You're actually better at showing how you feel than saying it. Admittedly, you have odd ways of expressing affection, but Chase is pretty familiar with Houseworld by now. If you mean it, he'll get it."

"Back to flowers, huh?"

"If you want to give him a present, House, try something that comes more naturally. And I don't mean sending him sex toys. Try something that's a gift _for him_, rather than a gift _from you._"

"You think that would work?"

"I don't know, House, but it really couldn't hurt your cause to show Chase a little personal consideration. Where it goes from there is up to _both_ of you, and maybe I can get a little peace while you're occupied.

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_The next day_

Chase never bothered to lock his office; he still used the locker room for his belongings and it was convenient for the nurses to just drop off patient charts. This morning, though, there was something on his desk that didn't come from a nurse. It was a 12-inch silver disk and what looked like a ray-gun sitting beside it. He picked up the disk and studied the details, including the little lights on top and around the rim. _Yep, it's supposed to be a spaceship._ He then saw the note under the 'gun'. The familiar scrawl read:

_Meet me on the roof at dusk and I'll show you how to frighten the neighbors with your very own alien invasion._

Chase smiled in spite of himself. If he wasn't too busy with patients tonight, this might be fun.

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When Chase arrived on the roof, his former boss was already waiting. House held out his hand and Chase gave him the gift items. Without a word, House fiddled with the equipment and then launched the flying saucer until it hovered about ten feet above them. Apparently it was radio-controlled using the 'gun'.

House showed him how to operate the 'UFO' and then offered several suggestions for ways to annoy their colleagues with the technology. Chase had to laugh at the mental image of House chasing one of the trustees around Cuddy's office with the ship (God knows Chase wasn't going to try _that_ himself).

By then it was completely dark; the moon hadn't risen yet. House produced a bag of pretzels and Chase took a handful. They munched in silence for a few minutes, looking up at the constellations. Chase had never gotten used to the huge difference in the night sky compared to home; stargazing was one of the few activities that made him truly homesick for Australia.

Eventually House broke the quiet. "You know, I've been giving this thing with you and me some thought."

"Is there actually a _thing_ with you and me?"

"I want there to be. So how are we going to make this work?"

Chase sighed. "I don't know, House. I mean, there's no way to really start over after things got so fucked up between us."

House shifted his weight a bit in the dark. "Granted, we don't have the best track record for being on the same page. But I'm serious about us having a…relationship."

"You've been able to hide your intentions very well, House. For quite a while, in fact. On the other hand, I haven't given this a moment of thought; at least, not since last spring. I don't do casual hookups, and it seems like that's all you do."

"Stacy and I did alright for a few years. Remember?"

"True." A pause. "Are we actually having a serious conversation, House?"

"Don't get used to it; I've only got a few more seconds before I go into sincerity overload. Before that happens, tell me this. Is having a personal relationship with me the most horrifying prospect you can think of?"

Chase paused for more than a minute to consider the consequences of his answer. Then he softly replied, "It's a really terrible idea, but no, it's not…horrifying."

House's voice brightened. "Good. We should get started then."

Chase shifted uneasily. "House, this isn't something… I'm not ready to consider jumping into the kind of relationship you seem to have in mind."

"But you're willing to consider it?"

"Umm, yeah. Apparently I am, although I'm not entirely sure why."

"Alright," House responded. "Then here's what's going to happen. I'm going to take a play from _your_ book. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I'm going to remind you that I liiiiike you and I want us to be together."

Chase frowned. "Very funny, House. After all, it worked so well when I tried it. Besides, every other _day_? I gave Cameron a week at a time so I wouldn't seem like a stalker."

House grabbed his cane and pushed off from the wall. "I don't mind being a stalker. And apparently you have a hell of a lot more patience than I do about these things."

Chase sighed. "This is just your way of annoying the shit out of me, isn't it? I don't suppose I can stop you?"

"Not a chance. See you Friday."

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Needless to say, TBC

I love reviews! A happy author is a productive writer!


	16. Chapter 16

TITLE: Not Entirely Human Error – Part 16  
AUTHOR: parkermonster  
PAIRING: House/Chase  
RATING: PG-13, for language  
NOTES: Spoilers for Human Error, and everything that leads up to that  
SUMMARY: House is making his move. Chase is in big trouble. Or is he?

DISCLAIMER: Sadly, not mine.

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Part 16

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True to his word, House came to the ICU Friday morning and tracked Chase down.

"It's Friday. I like you."

"Wonderful. Bye," Chase replied.

"Not so fast there. Can we go get a drink after work and discuss it?"

"Discuss it? No thanks. Late shift."

House frowned. "Is that the male equivalent of washing your hair?"

"Might be." Chase managed to suppress a smile. "But thanks for stopping by."

"OK then, see you Monday." House turned and headed down the hall.

Chase watched him leave with a puzzled expression. _That was waaaaay too easy. I wonder what he's really up to._

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It was Monday and there was House again.

"It's Monday. I like you."

"Uh huh." Chase refused to look up from the chart he was examining.

"Wilson's out of town so I have no one to drown my sorrows with. Come out and drink to excess with me?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "So your plan is to get me pissed on plonk and have your way with me? You have a great idea of courtship, House."

"You underestimate me, grasshopper. I intend to get you intoxicated on fine wine and the honor of my presence."

"As I just said."

"No, my version is classier."

"Either way, House, it's hard to pass up the invitation to get drunk and then get molested. It's a shame I can't fit it into my busy schedule."

"You make it sound so sordid, when my intentions are pure. What dark secrets in your past have made you so suspicious?"

"There's _so_ much wrong with what you just said, I don't know where to begin. The dark past I had as your _Fellow_ is enough to make me suspicious, and I have yet to see any evidence that you are capable of purity in any form. AND…let's be honest here; the chances of me deliberately sharing any dark secrets with _you_ are very, very small."

"C'mon, where's all your love and adoration for me and my brilliant mind?"

"It's gone walkabout, House. And now I have to get back to work."

"You're no fun at all."

"That's the idea."

"Then I'll see you Wednesday."

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Wednesday, Chase got his invitation from House by pager.

_Wednesday. Like you. Dinner?_

_No. U annoying_

_Spoilsport_

_Drongo_

_Wombat_

_??_

_Slow. Territorial. Trainable._

_Up yours_

_Would you?_

_Hate you._

_No you don't. Friday!_

_Lord, give me strength,_ Chase thought. _I hope Cameron never found me this ridiculous._

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Chase had a double shift and had lost track of time when he saw House bearing down on him with an evil grin. _Oh shit, let me guess. It's Friday._

"Hello, Doctor Chase, House sing-songed. "A word, please?"

"Cheryl, could you keep a close eye on Mr. Freed's vitals until I return. Doctor House needs a quick consult," Chase said to the nurse at the next bed.

"No problem, Chase. Have fun," Cheryl replied, with a distinctly sympathetic look.

"Don't I always?" Chase smiled as he made the hand gesture of a gun pointed at his temple. "Thanks."

House stood in the hall, frowning and shaking his head. "I saw that."

"You were supposed to. What now?"

"You know the day, you know the drill. Wanna meet me later for dinner?"

"Sorry. Busy." Chase turned back to the ICU.

"C'mon, Chase, at least have dinner with me." There was just a hint of a plaintive note in House's voice.

Chase stopped and turned back toward House, crossing his arms. "No thanks. I have no interest in buying you dinner."

"I won't make you pay."

"Then…Wilson's coming too, I take it?"

"Nope, just the two of us – more romantic that way. Unless you like threesomes, of course."

"You _wish_, House. And there's no way _anything_ we do together could be romantic."

"You wound me, sir. I can be romantic."

"Should I call Stacy and confirm that?"

"She'll just lie. If _she_ can't have me…Well, you know how that goes."

"No, how _does_ it go, House? Since no one else wants you anyway, she mustn't get too many chances to sabotage your relationships."

House smiled as if he liked that answer. "OK, I'll see you Monday."

As House headed off, Chase looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

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On Monday, House entered the ICU and saw Chase and one of the nurses going over a patient's chart. _It's that blonde hussy who keeps batting her eyes at Chase. Back off, sister, he's mine._ When the conversation ended, House whistled and crooked his finger at the nurse, who looked at him questioningly, then at Chase. Chase scowled at House and put his hands on his hips, but didn't move. Neither did House, who kept beckoning his rival.

Finally the nurse - House saw that her name was Cheryl and promptly ignored it - came over, with her own scowl. Chase turned away and moved to the next bed, clearly trying to ignore House.

"You're not supposed to be in here unless you have business. What do you want?"

"Oh, I have business. I need you to give this note to Dr. Chase." House handed her a folded piece of pink stationery with little hearts hand drawn all over the outside.

Cheryl looked at the note and wrinkled her nose. "Dr. Chase is standing right there. _You _can give it to him."

"Oh no, I couldn't do that." House feigned a look of aggrieved innocence. "It would be too embarrassing. I need you to give it to him, get his reply, and bring it back to me."

"Doctor House, we're busy up here," Cheryl shook her head. "We don't have time for your games."

"Pretty please? It will only take a moment, but I really need Chase to tell me something. I'll go away when I get his answer."

"Alright, give it to me," she said as she snatched up the note in disgust.

"Please don't look at it," House called plaintively after her. "I'd be soooo embarrassed if anyone saw it." She kept going and House smiled to himself. No way would the note reach Chase unread.

And of course, it didn't. House could see the exact moment when the nurse's back stiffened. She handed the note to Chase with a look of apprehension aimed at House. Chase unfolded and read the note, and House was pretty sure he was trying to suppress a laugh. Chase pulled out a pen and scribbled something briefly, then handed the note back to the messenger.

House unfolded and read the note:

_Dear Chase,_

_I like you. Do you like me? Please mark your answer._

_YES NO  
_

_XXXOOO Greg_

Chase had crossed out the other answers and written:

_Maybe_

House grinned. He looked over at Chase and mouthed the word, "Wednesday."

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By 4 pm Wednesday, Chase was horrified to realize that he was becoming impatient waiting for House to stop by. _It must be the anxiety,_ he thought. _I'm just worried about what House will do to embarrass me next. That must be it._

When his shift ended at 7, he headed back to his office, distracted, trying to figure out why his last patient was experiencing seizures. As he neared the door, he was startled by the spaceship that zoomed out of his office and headed straight for his face. He jumped out of the way and pressed his back against the wall, while the UFO stopped and hovered in front of him. He closed his eyes and knocked his head against the wall several times. He knew he couldn't keep this up longer than House. The man was like a rabid dog with a bone when he set his mind to something. _This is _such_ a terrible idea,_ he thought. _Maybe one dinner wouldn't be so bad, though._

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_Saturday…_

Dinner wasn't turning out quite like Chase had expected. He had eaten with House in the cafeteria and gone out drinking with him in a group, but this was actually the first time he'd had a one-on-one sit-down restaurant dinner with House. It was a relatively fancy place that Chase had never visited before. He idly wondered if this was where House had taken Cameron on _their_ date.

Conversation was surprisingly easy. They both dropped the banter a bit and talked about various odd experiences they'd had in and out of hospitals. House of course had a lot more stories, many of which were hilarious. Chase was pleased to finally find out why House knew Portuguese, of all languages. Rio at Carnivale sounded pretty damn wild, even for House.

Between the humor and the wine, Chase found himself relaxing. Even the silences were comfortable; not something he'd had with Cameron, that's for sure. After they'd eaten, he settled back with his wine glass and surveyed House for a minute or so.

House looked back at him and smiled. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you're behaving remarkably well."

"I can do that. I clean up pretty well."

"I suppose you do. So how long can you keep it up?"

House grinned. "Probably about an hour with the right partner."

Chase closed his eyes and sighed. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah. You should know better by now."

"I should, shouldn't I? Can't let my guard down for a minute with you." Chase was surprised to see a flicker of something very much like unhappiness in House's expression. It was gone so fast he wasn't sure he'd seen it. Chase sighed again. "Look, I want to trust you on this, House; I really do. I do like you, and we're compatible in a lot of ways. But the trust thing really hasn't worked out very well between us, has it?"

House settled back and grimaced. "No, I guess it hasn't. A lot of that has been my doing, and I…regret some of it, in retrospect. Wilson tells me I'm not really cut out to be an easy, sharing kinda guy."

"No, you're not," Chase smiled, "but then, neither am I. I can't believe we're even having this conversation."

"Hope you're not enjoying it_ too_ much. I might have just shorted out a circuit in my brain trying to get in touch with my feelings. It _burns_."

"Getting too close for my comfort, too. Let's get back to something safe, like making fun of our colleagues, or motorcycles, or…"

"Sex?"

"Or sex. Met any interesting hookers lately?"

"I'll have you know that despite what everyone seems to think, I don't actually do hookers. Escorts only, thank you very much."

Chase smiled. "Escorts, eh? I guess the conversation is better?"

"I'm not sure, since I don't generally encourage conversation." House paused. "Although, I suppose they would have some interesting stories. Anyway, in case you're wondering, they're all clean, as am I."

"That's good to know—" Chase saw House perking up "–_maybe_, for future reference."

The waiter arrived to ask if they wanted coffee and they both went quiet. True to his word, House really did pay the bill, and without even making too big a deal out of it.

If only Chase could shake the feeling that this was too civilized to be true. _I'm enjoying myself. Don't spoil it, House._

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As House drove them back across town, he glanced over at Chase. "Would you like to come back to my place?"

"I think not, House. I have an early call tomorrow."

"Alright, your place it is."

They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Chase said, "You know I'm not going to invite you in, don't you?"

"I know," House smiled. "And _you_ know I'm going to try to get in anyway, don't you?"

Chase smiled back. "I never doubted you."

After another companionable silence, they arrived at Chase's building and miraculously found a place to park in front. After they stopped, Chase turned to House and said, "I had a really good time, House. Thank you."

"At the risk of sounding like a soap opera, it doesn't have to be over, you know."

Chase smiled. "Yeah, it does, for now. I suppose…I wouldn't mind doing this again, though."

House swallowed his immediate comeback – _Yeah, since I was paying –_ and came up with a less sarcastic line. "Can I walk you to your door, at least? Wilson was adamant that I should act like a gentleman."

"I'll have to thank him, then. You've done a rather good approximation so far. And no, I think I can find my way to the door without any help."

"Sure you don't want to invite me in?" House gave his best eyebrow waggle. "I can make it worth your while."

"Maybe you could at that, but the answer is still no."

"Can I at least kiss you goodnight?" When Chase didn't make a frantic grab for the door handle, House took that for a 'yes' and leaned toward the passenger seat. Chase leaned too and their lips met.

Chase was expecting House's tongue to make a spirited attempt to locate his esophagus, but instead, House's lips just touched his and withdrew. It was gentle, respectful, almost… Well, it was _nice_. This wasn't the House Chase thought he knew at all.

_This_ House was kinda weird, actually.

He leaned back into his seat and gave House an appraising look. "Was that the best you could come up with for the occasion?"

House grinned without a trace of sarcasm, which was something else Chase wasn't used to. "If I gave it my best shot, you'd never send me off alone into the night."

Chase smiled back. "Then give me a medium shot."

They both leaned in and this time their lips and tongues got more involved. To his surprise, Chase could definitely detect some heat to the proceedings. Thank God it wasn't sloppy, though – he wasn't ready for that. Yet.

House finally broke it off. "Better. You have potential."

"Thanks. It didn't suck for me, either." Chase caught himself just in time and held up his hand to prevent House's response. "I did it again. Don't even bother to go there, House."

"Well, not tonight, anyway."

"Hold that thought." With that, Chase got out of the car, leaving behind a startled and very pleased House.

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You'd hurt me if I stopped here, so I won't.

Next chapter: soon.


End file.
